


Home is where the heart is

by Iship_lover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Wings, Backstory, Blasphemy, Heaven, Hell, Jealousy, Lucifer's Cage, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Pining, Plot, Purgatory, Repressed Memories, Slow Burn, Trauma, Wingfic, cage fic, lots of backstories, some minor balthazar/omc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:33:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 30,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iship_lover/pseuds/Iship_lover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer's cage is meant only for Lucifer. And the only way for Sam and Adam and Michael to escape is if they manage to work together is to work together. They need to get over their own problems with each other, first.<br/>Dean is getting desperate when Castiel stops showing up. Until he does show up and they jump into hell for the sake of family.<br/>AU post season 5 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Fall

Sam did not expect to wake up after falling into the pit. Or rather, wake up in the lush green forest that surrounds him now. He looks up at the bright blue sky, squinting his eyes at the sun. And for one hopeful moment his heart soars. He pushes himself up, hands gripping at the dirt. “Dean? _Dean_!” He calls out, and Sam finds that his voice soars and echoes, and he yells again, but the only reply he gets is his own voice. With tentative steps, Sam moves away from the trees, into a small opening among the towering greens. And his heart sinks to his stomach when he sees _Lucifer_ , Lucifer-in-Nick stumbling towards him.

“No,” Sam steps back, but at least he knows where he is now. Hell. Not the fire and brimstone Hell he thought it would be. “No, no, _no_.” He chanted, moving back from Lucifer’s stumbling form. The Devil did not seem to hear him. So Sam moves back further. And Lucifer falls to his knees, and screams. And he screams, and after an incredibly long time, Sam kneels beside the Devil and touched his shoulder.

Dean would not understand. Or take this as some opportunity to run. But Sam, against all his sense and judgement, stays. Lucifer screams again, out into the cold emptiness and Sam holds him, not knowing what to say. He could run now, but he runs his hands in Lucifer’s short, cropped hair, and rubs circles in his back, and the screaming quietens into soft, stuttering sobs. Then they went away and Sam was left kneeling in the grass with a catatonic Satan. The sentence sounded funnier in his head. “Okay. Okay.” Sam breaths to himself.

Lucifer _twitches_ a little in his arms. Sam shuffles over, and places Lucifer on the ground, his unresponsive body leaning against a tree. Sam stands and wipes his forehead, brushing his hair away from his face. Lucifer slumps against the trunk, staring up at Sam. No, not staring at Sam. Just staring. Ice blue eyes blank and pupils dilated. Sam stares back, hands falling to his side. He shifted from foot to foot, unable to keep still. Eventually, he gave up on trying to wring some reaction or another from Lucifer and plopped down, legs crossed awkwardly across the Devil. And Lucifer grabbed his arm and Sam _yelps_ , jumping up. Thinking that this was all just a game and that the torture would start here.

The grip on his arm is strong and forceful, but not painful. “Calm down! Let go!” Sam yells, attempting to push Lucifer off him. The Devil did not budge. Instead, he jerks Sam forwards without a word, and the sky and the land around Sam spins. They land after a second that seemed like an eternity. And Sam lets out a breath he did not know he was holding. Wherever this is, it certainly did not seem like hell. It was beautiful, and the air hummed with a certain magic that buzzes around his skin and it’s overwhelming. “This is _heaven_.” Lucifer appears behind him and Sam spins around, eyes wide. Sam reaches for his knife, his gun, before realizing that he had neither. “How are we in Heaven?” Sam settles and asks, knowing that he should be more careful when talking to the Devil, but somehow not caring as much as he should.

Lucifer turns again, and _drops_ like a bag of rocks. Not physically, mind you, but the way he blanked out was so sudden that Sam did a double take, and waved his hand across his face before realizing that, yeah, he is that far gone now, and Sam feels a twinge of sympathy, because Lucifer was good to him. No matter what he did, he never tried to hurt Sam, and no matter how much Sam denies it he still knows. Lucifer is staring. Not at Sam. Not at anything, really. It’s unnerving, and Sam glances at him, waiting for the Devil to wake up again, and drag him to another side of the cage(and Sam knows that he is still in the cage, and he thinks that maybe the cage is like Heave, and he is seeing Lucifer’s worst memories). It never occurred to him until much later, the fact that he did not see his worst memories. Sam looks around. He figures that if the Devil remained catatonic, then Sam could do nothing but watch.

Heaven is beautiful, breathtaking, and Sam knows that he could just lose himself in a place like this, but his mind goes to _Dean_ , his _big brother_ , who would do anything for him, anything for little Sammy, because Dean’s self worth is tied entirely to Sam’s existence and sometimes Sam couldn't breath. He thinks of Bobby, gruff and old and always there. He thinks of Castiel. Out of reach, the warrior from Heaven who gave up everything for Dean, and Sam, and their little group. So Sam convinces himself to stay, to not move, and anchors himself to Lucifer. He wonders if this is not Lucifer’s worst memories, but his best, because a fitting punishment would be for Lucifer to see Heaven in front of him at all times, but not be able to reach it, and Sam feels another twinge of sympathy, and moves near Lucifer’s unresponsive body. He tugs at his arm, without all those sores, his skin was smooth but the energy Sam felt, the cold fury that Lucifer burnt with is a soft, cold hum, and Sam could do nothing but watch.


	2. Free Fall

Heaven sprawled out before his eyes, all golden and glorious and Sam closes in on what Lucifer is staring at, because this is Lucifer’s cage, Lucifer’s hell and Lucifer’s memories. The angels looks different here. They burned bright, too _bright_ but his eyes remain where they should be, in his eye-sockets. He could make out human-ish shapes, but it could all be in his head. The sky swerves again, and they land in a garden. Lucifer still standing, his body more like a shell than anything else. It was weird, is all that is.

Logically, Sam knew that no place on Earth could be this bright and beautiful. Logically, he knew that this is Heave. Still, overwhelming is what he could say. Then Sam could see Lucifer. Not mentally passed out Lucifer, but Lucifer. Memory Lucifer, in this case. It’s strange, how he could even recognize the Archangel just be looking, considering that all he sees is a giant glowing ball of light, but he could tell it’s Lucifer. And Michael. Sam could tell that the other giant glowing ball of Light was _Michael_.

The feelings overwhelmed him, even if Sam knows that it was not his own feelings that he is feeling, but Lucifer’s feelings instead. And Sam thinks that maybe the connection between him and Lucifer is not the regular Angel-Vessel connection. Or maybe Lucifer's brotherly issues is overlaying with Sam's own brotherly issues, and boy, do they both have issues. He can see Lucifer’s eyes widening by a fraction, too. That bastard might not be as catatonic as Sam previously thought, but then another new wave of feelings washed over him and Sam had to struggle just not to fall over. This is Lucifer’s hell, Sam reckons, as the sheer amount of anger, pain and betrayal assaulted his mind. The sky swerves again.

\--------------------------

Dean is drinking again. He is also hunting again. Two months after moving in with Lisa and Ben, he leaves with a note and a drunken phone call. Not his best moment, but, then again, at least Dean the fuck up have no one left to drag down with him. So here he is, getting drunk off cheap whisky and self pity, with Sam’s laptop out in front of him.(the constant reminder of Sam is definitely not healthy, but this is Dean we’re talking about). At least the case was easy. Another salt and burn. A fairly new ghost, too. Took care of it in a night.

Dean sighs, and slams the laptop down. He could almost feel Sam’s disapproving stare at his back, to which he would reply with a middle finger and some snide remark, and Sam would laugh and throw some nerdy insult at him, and all will be well, except for the fact that Sam is not here, and neither is Cas. Thinking about the Angel hurt more than it should.

Because with Sam gone(don’t say dead, Sammy can’t be dead, because if Sammy is dead this means that Dean failed, and Dean knows what failure means but taking care of Sammy is the one thing he couldn't, wouldn't, refuse to fail at), all Dean have left of their little group is Cas, and then Cas just poofs away like it was _nothing_ , and Dean prayed, too. From the casual, ‘Hey Cas, how’s things upstairs!’ to full on, getting down on his _knees_ and _praying_. Nothing, is what he got back. Zip, zil, nada. Absolutely freakin’ nothing. Dean clutches the bottle so hard that it shatters, and his hand bleeds, “Fuck!” He yells and swings his hands a bit, and ignores the fluttering noise behind his back, until Dean swings around and yells _“Fuck!”_ yet again, this time louder.

“Your hand is bleeding.” Cas takes a step forwards, hand out and glowing, and Dean takes a step back. “You.” He points at Castiel, and the Angel tilts his head, with a little confused frown on his face and Dean almost forgives him instantly. Almost. “Where the hell have you been?!” The blood drips from his hand to the ground and soaks into his clothes but Dean only has eyes for his anger at this moment. “I was in Heaven.”

Dean explodes into a mantra of accusations. “Heaven? Heaven! You were _fucking off_ in the fucking Holy Land while _Sam rots in Hell_? What the hell were you doing!” This went on for another few minutes before Dean decides to calm down, and the pain in his hand became an actual distraction. The hurt-yet-confused look on Cas’s face is not going to make him feel guilty(even if the slight twinge in Dean’s stomach says otherwise.) “Heaven.” Castiel breathes, and looks down. Dean feels guilty again.

“Heaven is...in a state of chaos. I am...doing my best to try and avert civil war among my brothers.”

“Aw, hell.” Dean swears, and Castiel frowns again.

“My apologies.” He tells the older Winchester. “I heard your prayers, but was unable to answer.” And Castiel did hear, but there was nothing he could have done. Dean looks up at Cas, looks down at the broken glass, looks up again, until Cas heals him and flies away before Dean could manage to say anything similar to an apology.

“Fuck.” And Dean sits down, (not bleeding) hands over his face as he tries to best to not think about what kind of shitty friend(and failure of an older brother) he has been, because what kind of friend look into his friend's eyes and tells him to fuck off before even listening to what the hell Cas had to say- civil war in Heaven and all Dean cared about was his own freakin' problems that are not Cas's problems to begin with.

Drowning himself in alcohol and self-pity sounds like a better idea than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first SPN fic I have written, and Cas is pretty hard to pin down. This fic may be a little weird and a little trippy, but I hope it'll get better :)
> 
> Michael and Adam will show up by ch3.


	3. Perspectives

What happened next is hard to describe. Not by human standards, at least. Sam was surprised that the images, memories he saw coupled with Lucifer’s waves of rage and sadness and _terror_ did not drive him insane. Or maybe it did. But it’s easier to detach himself from everything he(Lucifer, it’s Lucifer’s thoughts and memories and pain that is crashing over him, not his own) is feeling. Sam takes up the role as the silent observer.(It’s easier this way) Lucifer twitches a little besides him.

Sam tugs at his arm again. Still no response. The sky in front of them lit up, and Sam was once again reeling from the extent of Lucifer's feelings. Anger, so much anger that Sam is seeing red, shame boiling from the bottom of his gut, acid and putrid. Sorrow that chills his bones. And Sam can understand why, because the angels are falling. Not just falling, but screaming, bright light tearing at each other, wings burning into bone and ashes, loud, primal screams ringing in his ears.

At this point Sam is so good at detachment that he should be worried, but if he is not detached then he would be insane a long time ago. _Lucifer_ was among the falling, Michael above them, tearing at his wings with his bare hands, the brothers screaming at each other, begging and screaming as drops of grace and light poured from Heaven down onto the skies onto Earth. The macabre light show went on and on until there was nothing in Sam’s ears but ringing and nothing on his mind but the bone-wings of fallen Angels. What is worst is in his mind. Lucifer’s voice echoing in his skull, “brother, _please_ -”

And he sounds so desperate that Sam couldn't breath and he pulls at Lucifer again. Lucifer remains silent and unresponsive, staring at the skies, pupils blown wide. “Don’t do this, _brother_ -” Michael screams in the background as Lucifer fights back, clawing desperately but he still falls, and he screams all the way down and Michael howls, desperate and broken and Sam is overcome with sorrow, so much that he could drown in it so he pulls himself away and pulls at Lucifer again more forcefully(physically? mentally?)

The scene disappears from his mind, and Sam lets out a breath he did not know he was holding. They were back at the forest. Sam knew, instinctively, that if Lucifer loses it again, then Sam has to go through another unwanted blast from the past again, and he might just lose his mind if that happens again. “Lucifer,” He shakes Lucifer by his shoulders. The man is shorter than him, and lighter than he looks. “Lucifer.” Sam says again, this time more forcefully. His eyes remains unfocused. Glazed over, and Sam realizes that this _scares_ him. Seeing the all-powerful, almost larger than life Archangel in this state. And those memories. He is feeling sympathy for the Devil after seeing all that. The sky tilts a little, and Sam shakes Lucifer again, cupping his face so that he is facing him.

“C’mon, look at me. It feels strange, saying these things to Lucifer. Strange, but right. Somehow.

“Sam?”

Who knew his name would sound so right coming from the Devil’s lips?

\-------------------

Michael raged when he first dropped down into the pit, still wearing the body of Adam Milligan. The trees shifted around him as his grace burnt them to ashes, until even their roots became scorched, and the next day they would sprout up again, unwelcome, and they always fueled his anger. He lashed out, day after day, at his surroundings, at the walls of the cage(he could feel the walls these are the walls). He attempted to lash out at the soul inside of him, but it just frustrated him even more when Adam offered no resistance(he did resist, Michael was just too _powerful_ to even feel it)

He screamed for Lucifer to come out and fight him, fight him like he meant it, like it was always meant to be and got no answer. He begged for his father to come and save him. It was Lucifer’s cage. He was the one who threw Lucifer into the cage and yet he was in here with him. It hurt, throwing his brother down. It hurt more than anything yet Michael still did it, because he was loyal to his father more than all else, and he is still here. Time runs differently, here.

On what felt like the third day(third week? Third year?) He felt a small tendril at the back of his mind. The sword of Heaven almost scoffed when he felt Adam’s soul attempting to reach out to him. He sat back, leaned against a tree and closed his eyes.

\----------------------------

Drowning himself in alcohol and self-pity was not the best idea by far. Dean groans, flips over and drapes his arm over some sleeping girl. At least his game is still on, even when he was pissed. His head felt like midgets trying to crack open his skull with tiny hammers, and that was the most unpleasant feeling he has ever felt. It could be one of the worst hangovers he had in his(relatively short) lifetime.

Which is impressive, given the amount of hangover’s he’s had. By the time the giggling girl left it was almost noon, and Dean had nothing better to do than to pray. No going to Bobby’s(how long has it been since he talked to the old man?) No trying to get Sam out(No Demons would deal, no witches would even try, and don’t get him started on the Angels.) So he prayed.

“Castiel.” He calls out, and Damn if Dean did not feel like a creepy, nagging, ex with the amount of time he spent talking(praying?) to Cas.

“Hey Cas.” He breaths again. “If you are there, man, please, listen to me. I..I’ve got nowhere to go. Not anymore. It’s kinda pathetic, really. Just...come when you can, okay?” Dean’s left standing there with no response, and, somehow, he was not even surprised.


	4. caged heat

Heaven.

Heaven was, as humans would call, a mess. And in this mess, the masses of Angels that was left with no leader when Michael fell looked to Castiel for direction. It should have been Raphael, but Raphael left Heaven as soon as Michael feel, he left just like how Gabriel left and Heaven is reeling with no direction. And so, in the absence of any others, Castiel became the acting leader of Heaven. It was hard. The soldiers in the garrisons warmed up to him enough, and the secretarial branch remains indecisive and neutral, but the worst part was dealing with the intelligence branch.

They ignored most others, answering only to each other and spoke a particular dialect of Enochian that only they knew. It was frustrating. Castiel was Heaven’s acting leader, and yet he could not even keep his brothers and sisters, his family, from falling apart. At this point, he has already tuned out from anything other than Angel radio, and prayers. Talking of prayers, and Castiel thinks of Dean. Cutting himself off from Dean was a choice that _hurt_.

Castiel did not know why it hurt. He was not _programmed_ to understand. But still it did, and all he knows is that he did not want it to hurt again. Dean did not want him there, because Castiel was a failure.

Because Castiel could not find Sam. Because Castiel did not save Sam. Logically, he knew he could not, but somehow it was all his fault( _is that what Dean thinks?_ )

He should not be able to feel anything. But he does(oh he does), and once again, Castiel is left with the conclusion that human emotion is volatile and hard to grasp and ultimately a painful experience. There is a part of him that wants to give it up just give it all up, but something in him holds on to a thin thread.

\---------------------------------

Michael closed his eyes and leaned against the tree. He is, after all this time, exhausted. No signs of Lucifer( _is he hiding from him? Why?_ ) And no signs of his father( _father why have you forsaken me so?_ ). Adam’s soul reached out for him from the back of his mind. Michael almost pushed him back, the small, fragile thing, only half-bonded to him, not even his true vessel. But it’s so lonely in the cage. For once in his long life, Michael was alone.

All by himself. Even when his father’s voice quietened down in his mind, his brothers and sisters filled the void and it lessened the hurt( _but not the pain from Lucifer’s fall- that will never go away_ ). So he pulls his grace away a little, so that it would not burn the only other being in here with him, even if it is just his part-vessel’s almost broken soul. Adam’s soul, as Michael finds out later, is surprisingly resilient. It reached out to him, brighter than anything else in their immediate vicinity(save for Michael himself)

The thin tendrils of soul-light grasped out for Michael’s grace, and he closes his eyes and finds himself face to face with himself. Or rather, his vessel. A second later, and Adam Milligan’s fist lands in his face. The first thing Michael learns about the cage is that his powers are useless here, despite being able to feel his grace and Adam’s soul. The second thing is the face that Adam had dared to even strike him.

“ **What** do you think you are doing.” Michael burns hot with the sheer humiliation that this inadequate vessel stood up against him. If he had been stronger then Michael would’ve been able to pull Sam Winchester out of the pit and carried out the prophecy as it was always meant to be.

“Socking you in the face, you _asshat_.” Adam glares at Michael. It was because of him the Adam was stuck here, instead of being up in Heaven with his mother. It was entirely Michael’s fault that he landed ass-first in hell. Adam never wanted anything to do with the supernatural, yet time after time he finds himself caught in the web, even after he died. And that pisses him off the most, because the Angels(fucking _Angels_ , really?) would not even let him rest in peace. Michael exits his shock, face twisting into something ugly. It has been too long since he gave in to his temper.

He snatches Adam up by his neck and pins him onto a nearby tree, holding him so that he did not reach the ground. Seeing the human thrash and curse gave him some sort of perverse satisfaction.

“ **Listen** , you ignorant _child_.”

Michael’s voice did not sound like Adam’s voice. It was colder, harder, more impersonal.

“You do not understand who I am. What I am. I was here before you creatures were even a single thought in my father’s mind. I was here, before all Archangels and all other Angels, and creation itself. I have existed long before the universe itself came into being, and I will continue to exist long after it is gone. You cannot comprehend the sheer scope of my power or my age. You are an _insignificant speck of dust_ compared to **me** , and **I** will have _respect_!”

“Despite all that.”

Adam drawls after a long silence.

“You are still a massive douche bag, and a childish one, at that.”

Michael’s hand closes in on his throat as his face(or Adam’s face) twitched. Normally, he’s be dead. But considering that Adam is already dead, and the fact that he is not dead yet, he decides that he really, really want to give the Archangel that screwed over his life a piece of his mind.

“My time is better spent _elsewhere_.”

Michael snarls, and shoves Adam away, disappearing out of his consciousness. Breathing hard, Michael stands and roars, ripping the tree out by it’s roots. His strength is back after leaving the subconscious plane, but the urge to swing the tree at the insolent child has not left.

 _Winchesters_ , Michael decides, are a stubborn, annoying lot.


	5. Losing my religion

“ _Sam_?” Lucifer asks and Sam never thought he would feel such relief at hearing the Devil talk, because that meant Lucifer was conscious again.

“Lucifer.” Sam nods, stepping away a little. Even when he has seen Lucifer at his most vulnerable, he knows that the Archangel is still a powerful, dangerous being.

“ _You_ jumped.” Lucifer tells Sam.

“I had to. Can’t let you two _destroy_ the **world**.”

Lucifer was staring at him, accusing Sam of betrayal.

“You _betrayed_ me.”

“You tried to destroy the world.” Lucifer was the Devil, after all.

“I made you an offer! I was good- to you, you were my _true vessel_!” Does he not know how important he is to him? To say that Lucifer was mad at Sam was an understatement. He never lied to the man, promised him everything and yet all he did was stick to his brother like his life depended on it- and Lucifer was jealous. Jealous of Dean because Sam never trusted him like that, even when Lucifer tried everything to convince him. Jealous of their relationship, because Dean never betrayed Sam like _Michael_ betrayed Lucifer.

“It doesn’t matter! I can’t let you kill everyone!” Sam thought of Castiel and Bobby, and all those people that died because of the Apocalypse. “You just-” Sam sighs. “Look.” He turns to Lucifer. “We, are in the cage now. Your cage, so fighting is pointless.” Lucifer gapes at him.

“What is it that you want then, Sammy?” Lucifer twitched at him after a long pause. “You slammed me back into the cage. Do you know how long I spent here, cut off from _Heaven_ , from my brothers and sisters? All because of your _damned species_?”He rants at Sam, pointing a finger at his chest.

“You were trying to destroy the world!”Sam shouts back. “Just because daddy didn’t give you enough hugs. Just because big brother kicked you out, because you are the most goddamn selfish bastard I’ve ever met! You don’t think **_I_** know how that felt like!?-”

Lucifer _twists_ his fist in Sam’s shirt before he could finish.

“ _Don’t you dare._ ” Lucifer’s hands shake, face _twisted_ in a rage, the image of **Michael** striking him down seared into his mind for all eternity. “Don’t you dare to even _assume_ you know what happened-” Sam grabs Lucifer’s arm, prying his fist out of his shirt.

“I saw Michael! I saw the _entire thing_ \- your memories- I was there-” Lucifer stares. Sam stares back. Lucifer glares at him, almost mournful, and Sam stares back. Lucifer disappears and Sam stares at the air.

Well. Damn. “Lucifer?” He calls out, the forest growing darker by the second. “Lucifer?!” Still no answer. The mist rises, covering the trees and the pathways. _“Lucifer!”_ Sam yells now, hunter’s instincts spiking up at the vast emptiness of the cage. It it a cage, and yet it seems to go on forever, vast, eternal and suffocating. There is no answer. Sam is _alone_.

\--------------------------------------

Dean calls Castiel. Again. It goes to voice mail. Obviously. Even the girl behind the counter is starting to look at him with something suspiciously like sympathy, and no one, especially not hot bartender chicks, are allowed to look at Dean Winchester with sympathy. He puts his best gameface on, flirts with abandon, but she just shakes her head, and tells him to go and call ‘Cas’ up before it’s too late. Dean wanted to laugh. Dean wanted to cry, because ain’t that the most fucked up thing he’s ever heard?

He calls Cas again instead, feeling every bit as pathetic as the people in the bar seem to think he is. This time, Castiel actually shows up before he even dials, looking like literal hell.

“Dude!” Dean exclaims, dropping the phone, eyes wide. “What the _hell_ happened to you?!” Castiel falls over, and Dean catches him before he drops on the floor of the cheap motel room(after a while, they just start to blend together). Cas is bleeding and his eyes are glazed over, and Dean begins to panic. He knows how to take care of human wounds, but a bleeding, possibly dying Angel is out of his league( _nononono Cas don’t die everything between us is all forgiven all in the past I swear_ )

“Cas? Cas!” Dean moves Castiel over, removing his coat and positioning the Angel, so that he is lying on the narrow motel bed. “C’mon, man, _talk_ to me!” Dean is breathing hard, his hand reaching for his bag to get the bandages.

“No....use.” Castiel shakes his head, grabbing Dean’s hand. With his shirt open and coat on the ground, Dean could see that the wound runs much deeper than he previously thought. Despite all the blood, the most frightening thing about all this is that Cas is bleeding grace. Drops of blue, bright and glowing, trickles out of the wound- it’s like life is escaping Cas’s body, and Dean refuses to let his Angel- _his Angel_ die-

“Dean...” Cas groans, and Dean scoots closer, noticing the drops of blue escaping Cas’s lips. Cas seems calm, eerily calm, like he’s not quite there.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean cups Castiel’s face, drops of grace sliding over his fingers as the mark on his shoulder tingles. Castiel smiles at him, and Dean almost loses it. “You’re **not** gonna die, Cas.” Dean tells Castiel, more for himself than for the Angel.

Castiel tugs at his hand, and Dean leans down, so that their forheads touch, and he can hear Cas’s breath getting shallower by the second. “Not tonight, not on my watch.”Dean babbles, trying in vain to catch Castiel’s attention, so that he can focus, focus and try to not die, when he notices something cold and sharp pressing into his hand. “Do it.” Castiel whispers.

Dean breaths in sharply at the Angel sword in his hand. Cas smiles at him, pupils blown wide. “It...has to be you, Dean. " _Want_....it to be **you**.” Dean’s heart sinks down at the realization that Cas wants him, him to end his life. How is that even a decision? He shakes his head, stunned into his silence.

For a single moment, the only sounds in this room is Castiel’s shallow breaths, too quiet, and Dean’s beating heart, too loud.


	6. soul bound

The forest is dark, and covered in mist, and Michael is lost, hopelessly lost. Frustrated, he rips apart another tree, only to have it mend itself before his eyes. “Do you have any idea where we are?” Adam snaps at the back of his mind. Michael glares at the forest before him, regretting letting the boy in. But he was alone(and lonely, so lonely), with Heaven and his siblings forcefully ripped away from him, and Adam, although annoying, was someone to talk to, a constant presence. Michael was overcome by sudden feelings of guilt. He threw Lucifer into the cage. Lucifer was in the cage ever since the beginnings of mankind.

Alone, cut off from Heaven, from their father, from Michael. The thought leaves him a little sick. Even with his transgressions, Michael thinks that Lucifer did not deserve _this_.

“You okay?” Adam asks, and Michael is slightly surprised that it’s not another snarky remark. “I’m not that much of an asshole, you know. Even if you Angels and your crowd mentality is kinda freaky.” Adam tells him. Michael sighs, and keeps walking. The cage seems to bare down on his grace, wearing it thin so that he could barely breath- “Hey, calm down, Mika.” Adam tells him, and Michael grumbles.

But he is grateful that there is someone apart from him here. As much as he hate to admit it, Adam manages to ground him in the vastness of the cage. Even if he is not his true vessel. The cage is quiet, unnervingly quiet. Even when the towering, twisted pine trees are rustled by an invisible wind that came from no where they made no sound. No sound at all. Down here, even the thousands and thousands of prayers directed to St Michael is silenced by some barrier. Adam tries to keep count of the minutes, hours, days that passed them, but time still slips by them. How many days has passed since they fell? Michael thought. Or has it been merely hours? Are they cursed to spend all eternity in this cage?

“You think too much.” Adam tells him, but Michael senses his fear and uncertainty. “The apocalypse was supposed to happen.” Michael replies, and he could feel Adam roll his eyes.

“My father meant for it to be. It is his will.”

“You don’t think the guy would've changed his will after all this time?” Adam asks, and Michael shakes his head, anger thrumming within his grace.

“Father’s will is eternal.” He says, just like he said a thousand times over, to Raphael, to Gabriel. To the Seraphim and the Seraphs, and the Cherubim and the Cherubs. He told them all, time and time again that the end will come and paradise shall grace Earth. What went wrong?

“He is _God_. God is allowed to change his mind.” Adam grumbles, frustration rolling off his soul in waves. Michael can feel every emotion he feels, and Adam can tell between the different frequencies Michael’s grace vibrates at. A profound bond, of some sort.

“Then where is he?” Michael asks, “Where has he gone?” Adam does not answer. Michael did not need an answer. Forgive me father, he thought, for I have sinned. There is no answer. No all knowing voice vibrating in every corner of his grace. Just a vast emptiness and an ache in his grace. The cage changes, from time to time. The pine forest disappears, and the fog covers the land.

The trees twist and spiral with their silent screams. They came across a river once, and Adam almost cried from relief. The river was vast and silent, just like the rest of the cage. It ran across the entirety of the cage, and Michael followed the river. Step by step. It shines even when there is no light. They discover that the river is made of molten glass, and when Michael finally fell to the ground in exhaustion, he could almost hear the sound of water flowing. When they woke the next day the river was gone, or they have somehow been removed from it. They did not talk for three days. If Heaven is music and light and the sounds of happiness, and Hell is the tortured screams of the damned souls and the world of man is a mixture of both, the the cage is devoid of it all.

“Why the trees?” Adam asks, and Michael frowns, tilting his head a little. All Angels are a little alike, Adam thinks.

“The trees is a construct of our minds. Rather, your mind. You are not able to comprehend the cage’s true form, so your mind creates a construct of sorts.”

“Like a vessel?” Adam asks.

“Not exactly.”

“What would happen if I can see the cage’s, ur, true form?”

“You will lose your mind from the sheer scope of it.”

“Oh.”

They walked in silence after that.

“Hey Michael?” Adam pipes up again after the long pause.

“Yes?”

“Can you describe it to me?

What the cage really look like?”

“It’s...it’s vast. Empty. Like space. There is absolutely no light or no noise. The light you see right now is another construct by your mind. Because we share a mind, most of the time I see and feel the trees as well, but if I try hard enough I can look past them and see the real Cage. It’s like drowning in darkness. You can feel the emptiness, and the walls caving in at the same time. It’s the lack of anything. It’s... _terrifying_.”

 

Michael breathes out slowly, and closes his eyes, gaining his bearings back. It’s easier to look at the cage the way Adam does rather than the way he does.

“Come here.” Adam tells him, and Michael does, reaching into his mind, and they stood, face to face again. And Adam pats him on the back, and they sat in comfortable silence until a rustle in the cage broke it. Michael jerks out of the mental plane, ignoring Adam’s cries of indignation.

“Lucifer?” He whispers at the figure before him. Lucifer raises his head. “Michael. Brother."

Adam could feel the distorted time slow down around him as the two Archangels stood face to face in mismatched vessels. Shit.


	7. pieces

“You’re not going to actually do that, are you?” An accented voice pipes up from across the room followed by the sound of wings. Dean whips his head around to face a man with scraggly blond hair who is definitely an Angel, pointing the sword to him.

“Who the hell are _you_?” Dean growls, body tense and alert. Protect Castiel at all costs, his mind reminds him.

“A _friend_.” The Angel smirks. Dean leaps forwards, sword pointing towards the intruder. The Angel flicked his wrist, and Dean finds himself pinned against the gaudy pink wall. The other Angel made his way towards Castiel, and all Dean could think about is Cas, all open and vulnerable, how anyone, like this asshole can _hurt_ him, and that thought curdles in his stomach like something sour.

“Get away from him, you son of a bitch!” Dean shouts as the Angel made his way towards Castiel.

“Did you just call God a bitch?” The Angel grins, tilting his head and Dean just glares at him. “Nevermind.” The Angel rolls his eyes and places his hand on Castiel’s forhead, a bright glow emitting from his vessel’s hand. At that moment, Dean can see the time around him slow down.

“ _No_!” He yells, but his own voice sounds far off and _distant_. The room twists into a kaleidoscopic nightmare. He can taste the air and the free floating particle and his heart being ripped from his chest with worry. It all ended when Cas opened his eyes, and Dean could breath again.

“Cas?” He whispers, scrambling to his friend’s side. “ _Cas_?” “Dean.” Castiel replies and Dean could almost kiss him. “Cas!” He says his name, again and again, to assure himself that Cas is here and alive and not bleeding out by his feet.

“Ahem.” The other Angel pipes up and Dean and Castiel turns to face him.

“Hello, Cassie,” He grins.

“ _Balthazar?_ ” Castiel’s eyes opens in surprise. “I thought you were dead.” He exhales.

“Who the hell is Balthazar?” Dean exclaims.

“An old _friend_.” Castiel explains, eyes still fixed on Balthazar like he was a _miracle_ and Dean felt inexplicably angry and relieved.

“I’m still here, you know!” Balthazar calls out from the other side of the room. Castiel removes himself from the bed despite Dean’s protests.

“How are you still _alive_?” Castiel whispers, “You died in the war. We mourned you. I mourned you.” The Host of Heaven sang songs of sorrow everytime a brother or sister is ripped from them. Every angel he killed, every angel that was killed, Heaven mourned, and Castiel mourned, and he would never forget the pang he felt when Balthazer died.

“I had to die.” Balthazar looked sad. Regretful. “I had to, Cassie.” Castiel nods. Dean coughs.

“Is there, uh, something I should know about?” He jokes. It does not feel like a joke, but his face is stretched under the false grin. What if there was? Why would that be any of his business?

“We’re _related_ , ya sicko.” Balthazar laughs. “Is there something I should know about?” He wriggled his eyebrows at Dean.

“Excuse _me_?” Dean raises an eyebrow and laughs nervously. Castiel does his head tilt thing. Yeah, Dean could definitely breath easier now.

\--------------------------------

Michael and Lucifer circled each other, graces reacting. Pain, remorse, rage flew through the cage.

“Michael.” Lucifer drawls, eyes hard and cold.

“ _Samael_.” Lucifer flinches, balling his hands into fists. He also chokes a little, voice cracking up and Michael’s pain shot through him. They attacked each other. It was inevitable, really. There is so much between them. An eternity of love that ran so deep, hate that cut into the very core of their being. Michael and Lucifer- no, Michael and _Samael_ were the first, the first Archangels, the first beings. Together, they created stars, galaxies, watched the dying throes of _Supernovae_ and the rise and fall of _countless_ civilizations across _countless_ years. The bond they share runs deeper than they would care to admit, and the betrayal and the hurt cut at both of them, as Michael threw Lucifer down into the pit. They were forever tangled and twisted into this broken puppet dance. Call it fate if you must. They fight, _tearing_ into each other with abandon, screaming their voices, their true voices hoarse.

The collision is earth-shattering, but the cage does not budge. The cage is eternal, there, devoid of any layers of reality, it exists, but it does not. In the cage that does not exist, two Archangels clashed against one another, and it was terrible, and it was terribly _beautiful_.

The Angelsong, a voice in Adam's mind provided. 

Adam screamed, too, as Lucifer cut through Michael’s grace into Adam’s soul. He bore it, because they need this. Because Michael defended him from the brunt of the damage when he is so damaged. The freaking Angels with billion’s of years worth of issues.

They stop, eventually, when they realize that the cage would just heal them from the damages, Adam breathes a little easier.

“You should _talk_ to him.” Adam tells Michael, glancing at Lucifer, sulking from across the clearing. What he thinks is a clearing, anyways.

“No.” Michael tells him, looking away from Lucifer. He wants to talk. Want to take his little brother back. Back before he knew what regret, what pain and anger felt like. Back to the days in Heaven when the Host sang in unison, a perfect melody in a perfect universe.

“Crowd mentality.” Adam mutters, sounding more sad than sarcastic.

“Why?” Lucifer asks from across the clearing, and Michael looks up like he’s seen a ghost.

“Why.” He echos, voice cracked and raw. Lucifer shakes his head.

“Why do you follow father’s orders like this? Why can’t you just _step off the chessboard_?” Michael can hear the pain in his brother’s voice, the pain of abandonment.

“You were going to destroy _everything_.” Michael tells him, words he has spoken a thousand times before, but the conviction behind the words has all but faded away.

“So were _you_.” And Michael does not deny it. Lucifer moves towards him.

“Why did you cast me down?” He begs, sounding just as broken and tired as Michael is feeling. Rage burns away fast in the cage.

“You want to murder father’s creations. _I had to_.” The words cut at him, making his tongue bleed.

“They are murderous. They are flawed.” Lucifer grabs Michael by his shoulders.

"So are you."

"Only because father made me this way."

“Not all of them.” Michael says, and believes it this time. Because of Adam and his bright soul grounding Michael when nothing else could, anchoring him in this place. He gives him faith even when his father could not.

“You’ve grown attached to your vessel.” Lucifer snarls, jealousy flashing before his eyes.

“So have you.” Lucifer did not deny.

“Do you know what happened after I cast you out?” Michael asks after a long stretch of silence. He was being honest. _Too honest_ and it _scares_ him to the core of his being. This powerful creature, afraid of coming clean of his burden.

“What?” Lucifer wants to know. Lucifer does not want to know.

“Father left. You know that. But I had to pick up the pieces. Heaven mourned you. The fledglings- they were so young, and our other brothers too. The first thing they knew was not the song of Heaven but the song of mourning.” Lucifer opens his mouth, but Michael shakes his head.

“Gabriel left. He stopped singing one day and he just left.” Lucifer was silent. To stop singing the angelsong was painful, more painful than anything he could bear, even in the cage.

“Raphael was the healers, yet he abandoned his art to take up the sword. He was lost. We were all lost. Heaven lost it’s color with the Morning Star gone.”

"You blame me."

"No. Yes. Sometimes."

 

“What is it that you want?” Lucifer says, after the entirely to uncomfortable pause.

“I want us to get out. I want to step off the chessboard. I want to _pick up the pieces of my family_. _**Our** family_.” His voice was thick, and Lucifer was too still. Still, he nods.

“As do I.” He tells Michael. The rift is still there, and even as they stand, a universe of doubt and jagged edges still remain wedged between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer's name was originally Samael.
> 
> Sam will definitely be back by the next chapter.


	8. Angelsong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Blasphemy, plenty of it.

Sam was alone.The forest fogs over, but he keeps walking. Lucifer was _gone_ , and suddenly Sam wishes that the Devil was still here, just to be another presence in the cage. He keeps walking. He walked until his legs ached and his head swims with hallucinations of life above the cage.

At least his bodily functions is all but gone in the cage. He suspects that _God_ knew one day a human will drag himself down into the cage and didn’t want him to piss in it. Sam laughs at that thought. There is so little to laugh about in here. His laughter is bordering on insanity, but still he laughed. The quiet in the cage seemed to absorb his laughter. He laughed until his stomach hurt and his ears rang.

Then he stopped. He is so tired. Sam misses Dean. The way his brother would complain if the cake is not pie. The way the idiot denies that he is head over ass for Cas. And the Angel. God, Sam misses them all, Bobby, Dean, Cas. Sleeping in crappy motels with lumpy mattresses. Hunting down monsters. The family business.

Things were simple back then. No Angels or Demons or deals or the Apocalypse that was not. Just them and the impala. Sometimes he wishes that he has normal human functions, so he could actually sleep. Now, he walks himself into exhaustion day by day, fall over, and is knocked out for a few hours, or a few days, or a few seconds. Sam misses being alive.

He misses Lucifer, too. He should not but he does. The brief moment when he was in the same body as Lucifer was elating, addictive. It felt right. Sam was more complete at that moment than he has been in a long time. It was then when he realized that him and Lucifer were made for each other, two halves made whole, and maybe he is just too tired, but the idea is not as disturbing as it should be.

Lucifer cared, in the only broken way he knows, but Sam feels it. The Devil truly cares for him, and he never did hurt Sam. Other people, of course, but not Sam. And Sam thinks that if they ever get out, then he should at least try to convince Lucifer that the rest of humanity(most of them, anyways) is worth it.

When he heard a slight hum in the dead silent air, and recognized Lucifer's true, angelic voice, he almost jumped to follow the sound. For the first time since he fell, Sam felt a small sliver of _hope._

. -----------------------------------

For the first time since Lucifer fell, Michael sang. The Angelsong is something that all Angels know as soon as they were created the knew how to sing. It’s a song full of love and grace and happiness, and sometime during the song, Michael realized that he was not singing to his father. He was singing for himself.

He almost stopped, _forgivemefather_ , he sang in his mind, but the words don’t make it out. Lucifer looked at him like he did not recognize Michael anymore, and maybe that is true, because even Michael is not sure that he knew who Michael was anymore. Adam sang back in his mind, songs he knew, and their voices mix together in harmony, soul and grace bound together. Michael felt warm, for the first time since Lucifer _fell_.

“Why?” Lucifer asks, because ever since he fell he stopped singing the Angelsong.

“I named Castiel, you know.” Lucifer sat down before Michael, unsure of what to do. There are days when he just want to sink his fist into Michael’s jaw( _but he doesn’t_ ) or stab him with his sword(but it’s gone)

“I named all of them. Castiel and Uriel and Annael and Balthazar and all the others. I raised them, Lucifer. Father left and I _raised_ them.”

“Alone?” Lucifer asks.

“Alone.” And Michael thinks back to training the Garrisons, or Inias’s first flight, or the time Castiel got himself caught in a bush in Joshua’s garden.

“Did father ever come back? After?” Lucifer asks, and Michael looks so pained and tired that Lucifer wants to forgive him for everything and beg for forgiveness for what he has done, because they had both hurt each other so much. Michael shakes his head. Father left soon after Lucifer fell, only coming back to speak to Gabriel once, about something important. Gabriel left soon after, and the hole in Michael’s heart widens.

“Gabriel left, too.” And Lucifer chokes up a little at those words, and he regrets so much about destroying his little brother. Michael and Lucifer. They raised Gabriel and Raphael together. Then Lucifer fell and Gabriel left and Raphael disappeared to obscure corners of Heaven, surrounded first by tomes of healing and then by his sword and the heat of war.

And Michael was always there, picking up the pieces, telling the Seraphs and the Angels and Cherubs what to do and Lucifer wonders about what would happen to the Angels now that Michael is also stuck down here with him. Will Raphael be there, taking up Michael’s mantel? Or will he just leave like Gabriel and leave Heaven to defend itself?

 

Lucifer starts singing, then. The Angelsong sounds a little strange, a little foreign in his throat, but Michael hums back. It was a song they knew from the beginning, the first Angelsong. Their grace vibrates in unison, on all the different planes of reality, they sang of love and family and falling and loneliness.

When they stopped singing Lucifer moves away again, across the clearing, but Michael thinks that the gap between them hurts a little less.

 

“That was fucking _beautiful_ , man.” Adam tells him sometime later, sounding a little breathless, which is ridiculous. Souls cannot be breathless.

“It’s the Angelsong.” Michael tells Adam, and Adam’s soul hums in an attempt to recreate the song.

“Is it true?” Adam asks Michael when Michael shows up again in their mindspace.

“Is what true?” Michael sat down next to Adam, lacing their fingers together. It was a simple, and intimate gesture, and Michael felt something like glee when Adam did not push him away.

“Did God really leave you alone to look after all the Angels?” Adam asks. God is sounding more and more like a complete deadbeat dad now. He wonders what those missionaries that drop by his place at least once a month when he was alive would think if they knew. Michael nods.

“They looked up to me, when father was gone I was all they have left. I had to.” Adam pats his shoulder. In their mindspace Michael changes himself to look like some guy with black hair in a leather jacket. It’s nice. Talking to Michael while he wears his own face is slightly distressing for Adam.

“Father must have his reasons.” Michael repeats again, looking up at the blue skies. At least int their mindspace there is still a sky. Adam shakes his head and pats Michael’s shoulder again. The Archangel is starting to sound like a broken record at this point- and seeing the amount of faith that he still have-

it’s pretty damn _tragic_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael's form in their mindspace is young John Winchester(Matt Cohen)


	9. Little Mother

As soon as Castiel is reasonably well-rested, Balthazar flapped off to God knows where, and Dean grilled the Angel for the details.

“What the hell happened, Cas?” He asks as Cas pokes at the pie Dean ordered. Because pie is just one of the things that helps the most after any life and death situation.

“C’mon, man, talk to me.” Dean leans back, eating his own pie and stifling a moan. Pie is good. Pie is always good.

“I was not behaving accordingly.” Castiel tells him, voice still rough with the slightly confused edge that it carries. He bites at the pie.

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, but Castiel shakes his head and tells him to mind his own business, and Dean has to laugh because right now, the Angel seems so human. By the time they go on the road again, Dean feels a little less broken and a lot happier than he has in a long time. Since Sam fell. Thinking about Sam hurts, because Sam is still down there burning in hell and it makes Dean feel so damn guilty to be happy when Sam is hurting. Castiel makes Dean happy. When they are together, in the same room, on a mission together, in the same team together.

“I became too human.” Castiel gazes out of the window, watching the cars and tress rush by. “The factions deemed me too _human_ to rule.”

“Don’t mind those winged dicks,” Dean says mildly. “They don’t know you, man, not like I do.” And he does because he knows that he knows Castiel the best, despite the fact that the time they spent together was just a blink in Castiel’s long life.

“You do know me best.” Castiel replies, and Dean smiles back at him, and kicks the feeling of guilt away to the side.

 

“Michael is not...as bad as you think he was.” Castiel tells Dean, later in the Motel room. For once, Dean has no direction, Maybe they could pick up a hunt or two, but for now, it was just him, Cas, the impala and the road.

“Seems like a massive prick to me.” Dean never liked Michael much- why are they talking about Michael?

“He raised me.” Well, shit. Dean knows how attached you can be to the guy that raised you- And if Castiel betrayed Michael for him- “He named us. All of us, after...after father left. I heard that many of us- would rather sing their praises for Michael instead.”

“Why are you telling me this, Cas?” Dean asks. They were touching on sores Dean would rather just leave in the past. John was not like what God seems to be. At least his father left to protect him and Sammy. He tried his best. And Dean really, really don’t want to sympathize with Michael, the guy who wants to wear him, for fuck’s sake.

“I will take you to hell.” “Excuse me?”

“We shall go to hell, Dean. And save Sam. And _Michael_.”

“Oh.” And just like that, Dean can see the future get better. He can go and save Sammy. Protect him, because it will always be Dean’s job.

“Yeah, lets go do that.” Dean grins, and pats Cas’s hand.

\---------------------------------

The Cage is a construct that God created. It holds Lucifer, and now it holds Michael, and two humans as well. But it is still Lucifer’s cage, as such it was named after him. Lucifer shapes the cage. Lucifer cannot escape the cage. He does not know. What is beyond the cage? Not Heaven, nor Hell or the world of man.

Beyond the cage is the world of monsters, and beyond the monsters is the world of the ancients. Beings that came before Elohim. Sometime after the beginning, barriers formed between the worlds, but this is not of import. Not yet, at least.

 

The beginning of this story started shortly after Elohim leaves and the Morning Star fell.

The Messenger tears himself away from the Host, and the Host mourns. But the Healer and the Sword of Heaven cannot mourn, for they have a job to do. The Healer, Raphael, shut himself off from Heaven. Not the way Gabriel did, suddenly and without a warning. He did it slowly. Staying behind in corners of Heaven, buried in his own thoughts. Only showing up when there are wounds to be healed. He fought, too. He fought more ferociously than any other Angel. Most believed that he fought so he could fade away and not care anymore. Unfortunately for him, Archangels are impossible to kill, and Michael would rather raise his sword against himself than against another Archangel.

The Host looked up to Michael, for he was the first. With Elohim and a third of Heaven ripped from the Host Michael was all they have left. Heaven is a little less bright with the Morning Star gone, and the songs of doubt and sadness echoed through the walls of Heaven. Elohim may be their father, their creator, but Michael was the one that raised all the Seraphs and Angels.

He instructed many of them flight, and the elder Angels went on to teach the fledglings. Ever since the beginning of man Michael was the only constant that remained in Heaven. Their Archangel. It was a heavy burden to bear, with Lucifer in the pit.

There are days when Michael wondered if he should just twist time and space to the days before Lucifer’s rebellion, to try and convince him to keep his voice down. It would be of no use. Lucifer was always too bright, too proud and sure of himself, and it lead to his downfall. Michael never cared much for the humans(until Adam) but Lucifer hated them for being what their father wanted.

Michael sang his Angelsong alone. Lucifer was gone. Gabriel was gone. Raphael remains silent. Heaven was missing pieces ever since the first war, and, no matter how hard he tried, Michael cannot piece his broken family together. The brokenness only became more noticeable as time passed.

He grew cold, himself. It was infinitely easier to hide behind a mask of indifference, casting down the fallen ones, giving out orders to the others. He himself is unsure of when Michael failed to become Heaven’s caretaker, and became Heaven’s fearsome General instead.


	10. Saints and Sinners

The first Circle of Hell.

It turns out that getting into Hell without making a deal or dying is not as hard as Dean thought it would be. Well, they had some help. Turns out Balthazar, the douchey(still Cas’s friend, but something about their closes grinds at Dean’s nerves) Angel dude knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a _Demon_.

“It’s complicated,” Balthazar says, winking at Castiel. Dean’s hand twitched. Damn but he wanted to punch that guy. Not like it would do much good, but still.

“Why?” Castiel does to familiar head tilt, only towards Balthazar and Dean grits his teeth.

“I’ll sort that one out, _darlin_ ’” Balthazar has the audacity to wink at Dean. Dean glares at him. Dean adamantly refuses to leave his body behind this time. Castiel seems pretty pissed, but Dean is holding his ground.

“What if my body develops sentience? And go all soulless and terminator?” “Dean, your body will be under Balthazar’s care. He will keep it safe.” “No way I am trusting that guy to look after my body- what if he-” Dean lowers his voice “Loses it? Destroy it somehow?”

“I can still hear you!” Balthazar calls before Cas can argue. He is leaning against the impala, and Dean gains a sudden urge to scrub his car. And Cas, too. That would be good. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Deano. Now let’s go- it’s time!”

They look up. The moon is in place. The Demon should be here soon, but Balthazar insists to not draw a devil’s trap(yet another reason for Dean to dislike him) The Demon appears in the form of some rather normal looking guy with red hair and red eyes. He grins at him, and Dean tightens his grip on his(Sam’s, he’ll return it to Sammy) Demon-killing knife, willing himself to not just run over and gank that red-eyed bastard.

“Hello, _luv_ ,” Balthazar saunters over to the Demon, and he rolls his eyes.

“You know I don’t want to deal with a _Winchester_.”

“Just a small favor.” The Demon raises his eyebrow. Balthazar leans down to kiss him and Castiel’s eyes widens at the sight of an Angel and a Demon making out rather...passionately at midnight on a crossroads- a scene straight out of a cheap romance novel from a motel drawer.

Dean grumbles at them to hurry it up. The Demon points a middle finger in his general direction. When they finally(finally!) break from the kiss the Demon went and made some quick introductions.

“Ahem! I’ll be your tour guide in hell. Call me Belial.” He claps his hands together. “Uh, good. We go two at a time. C’mon, Deano, let’s go!” He chirps, and Dean could practically feel the similarities to Balthazar(and, to an extent, Ruby)

\------------

Balthazar glanced at Castiel, gauging his brother’s reactions. “Hey, Cassie?” He asks. “You okay?”

“You are _fornicating_ with a _denizen of Hell_.” Castiel replies, as dry as he would ever be. Balthazar snorts. Typical Cassie, stick up his ass and all.

“So? E’s a good kid.”

“A Demon. Demons lie and betray.”

“Not him.” Balthazar stares at the moon absently. Castiel turns to his brother, the thought nagging at the back of his mind.

“Brother, tell me you did not bind him to you with your grace.” Balthazar did not answer. It was all the answers Castiel needed.

When an Angel and their mate bond together, they share pieces of their graces with each other, as a bonding method. He raises his arm, pulling up his sleeve. Castiel’s grace burns a littler colder at the sight of the black marred into Balthazar’s grace. The sight made him sick to his stomach, that an Angel will scar themself with the essence of a Demon is as distressing as it could be.

“Why, brother?” He asks, horrified, for it is unheard of for an Angel to bond with a Demon. Demons are abominations, to be smote at first sight.

“My grace. It keeps him human.”

“Does the Demon know?” Castiel fears for his brother. To trust- no to love a Demon is dangerous, unknown territory for an Angel. The punishments from Heaven-

“Course he does. He has to.” The go down through the opening without more words.

\-----------------

Getting into hell is easier than Dean expected. The rush of wind and the feeling of falling rustles pass his ears. Something curls up in his stomach and the smell of sulfur hits his nostrils. In the background of it all he hears the Demon chanting, but he is too out of it to actually hear what he is saying. For Sammy, he thinks. For Sammy.

Landing in Hell _hurt_. Like someone shot fire through his bones. Dean coughed out the black smoke in his lungs.

“It’ll be easier if you are in soul form, you know. Human’s aren’t meant to walk Hell.” The Demon- Belial- taps his feet, rocking back and forth. Dean glares at him. The enochian symbols carved into his ribs tingles at being such proximity with a Demon. Or with Hell.

“Why are there no one else here?” Dean asks, Still holding on to the knife. Belial taps his feet again, twirling his scarf around his fingers. Who the hell wears a scarf in _hell_?

“This is a secret entrance, you dumbass.”

“So only you know it.” Dean remains suspicious, and with good reason, too.

“Me and a few others. Ruby, too.” Dean tenses up at the mention of Ruby. Sore spot.

“Heard you shivved her.”

“Damn right I did.”

They stood in uncomfortable silence after that.

“Why are they not here yet?” Dean asks. Well, more like he pressed the knife to Belial’s throat and threatened.

“ _My_ Angel wants to talk with your Angel?” Dean blinks. His Angel. Castiel. His mind protested the notion. The Demon pushes him away.

“Jeez, Dean, no need to try and stab me every other minute.” He blinks, red eyes bleeding into blue.

 

 

“Right. So.” Dean backs away from the Demon, refusing to turn his back towards him. He keeps his body tense and aware. This is Hell. Bad memories all round for him. The very air hair makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

“How come an Angel and a Demon-” He waves a hand at Belial

“You know.” He shrugs. “Long story."

There were the sound of wings, and Castiel and Balthazar appeared, clutching at each other. Belial tugs Balthazar to his feet, patting his back and ignoring the look of distrust Castiel throws at him.

The mismatched group trudged along in the secret paths of the first circle of Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belial translates into 'the Devil'. But he is just some regular crossroads demon that Balthazar met in a bar. More development later?
> 
> Feedback is appreciated!


	11. Claw our way out

Sam knew something was wrong before he even found Lucifer. For one, he is stuck in Lucifer’s hell/dreamland again. Two, Adam is there with him, eyeing him with distrust. Or rather, Michael was there as well. Lucifer is staring off in the distance at the exact same scene Sam saw previously. Heaven in all it’s glory. And not long after will be Michael throwing Lucifer out. Call it sympathy for the Devil, but Sam could see where Lucifer was coming from in the case of him and Michael. Or it could be just the fact of Lucifer being in his head messing him up.

“ _What_ is happening?” Michael speaks up, startling Sam out of his rather troublesome thoughts. “Why is he like this?” He drags Lucifer along with him, but the scene keeps unfolding. Michael and Lucifer shows up in the memories, and Michael turns to Sam again. Sam finds himself, for the second time, with an Archangel by his throat. Holding him up by his throat, that is.

“Let go.” He glares at Michael. Here in the cage, even the Sword of Heaven cannot hurt him. Much. And any respect he had for the Archangel dissipated after him and Dean got chased across the country so Michael can wear Dean and Lucifer can wear Sam and they can have their prize fight.

“Tell me what is happening to _my_ brother.”

“I _don’t_ know.”

“ **Lies**!” Michael snarls as Adam fights for control in his mind, begging him to not rush in and make a mess of things. But Michael cannot wait. The last few days- weeks? Spent with Lucifer, his brother has been- Seeing Lucifer like this, dead to the world and vulnerable- hurts him. And if Sam Winchester can fix it then he will damn well make sure that the human does.

“Not. Lying.” Sam glares at Michael. Michael lifts him into the air.

“You must be doing this to him.” Michael declares while proceeding to crush his windpipe. “Let him go!”

“Why do you even care?!” Sam yells back, kicking at Michael. Lucifer definitely left some residual personality in him. The irrational anger _burning_ at Sam.

“He is my brother!” Michael punches Sam, his fist cracking against his jaw, sending Sam flying. Sam reaches up and grabs a fistful of Michael’s hair. Michael howls, and kicks Sam in his leg, disturbingly close to his groin. Sam bites the Archangel’s hand. The scene around them shifts, and Michael pushes Sam away and returns to Lucifer’s side.

“Lucifer?” He whispers, and the skies light up with their last battle, and Michael chokes up, watching himself, in all his real, angelic glory, with his sword pointing at Lucifer’s throat. Lucifer is begging, saying please, Michael, please, and Michael is cold. So cold. “Lucifer!” Michael yells, and the image blinks out of existence.

“At least we get a scenery change.” Adam tells him, voice shaking. He is almost as affected by this as Michael is.

“Stop.” Michael whispers. Adam stops.

“What happened?” Sam asks, propping Lucifer up. Lucifer blinks, not quite believing that Sam is there.

“Michael.” Lucifer stares at Michael, who stares back. Sam backs away and the two Archangels, the two brothers are enveloped in each other’s embrace, babbling in Enochian. They break apart, and move to opposite sides of the clearing awkwardly, like it was pre-arranged. Sam looks between Michael and Lucifer. The three of them sat across from each other in the clearing.

 

“How can we get out?” Sam asks, to disperse the uncomfortable silence, and because he really, really does want to leave the cage. If Hell is fire and brimstone and constant noise like Dean described, then the Cage is the opposite, and it drives him insane.

“You cannot.” Lucifer tells Sam. His vessel is here, his true vessel, and all he wanted to do is to reunite with Sam. He needs to give it time, Lucifer thinks. Despite what the human thinks, Lucifer never lied to him. The link between an Archangel and his true vessel is different, more intimate than regular vessel-angel bonds.

“There has to be a way!” Sam tries not to sound desperate. The cage is bearing down on him, slowly grounding him into nothing.

“An Archangel uniting with his true vessel could, theoretically, tear a hole in the cage. It would probably not lead back to the physical plane.” Michael says, and all the alarm bells in Sam’s head rings.

“I’m _not_ saying yes.” Sam wanted to say yes. He wants to latch on to any chance to get out at this point, but letting Lucifer in again is not an option he even wants to consider. He cautiously thinks that it could be true, since it is Michael suggesting it and not Lucifer. The trust he has for either of them is practically on the same level. Which is none.

“The cage.” Lucifer speaks up, staring intently at Sam, ignoring Michael’s heated gaze. They are both affected by what they saw in Lucifer’s...unfortunate previous state of mind. “The cage is a construct of your mind. It is a non-space. It is a wall between worlds. The only way to leave is to attack it’s weak spot-” Lucifer gestured at the clearing.

“And let out a massive burst of energy.” Sam finishes the sentence for him.

“That will break the barrier, yes.”

“Swear. That you will let me go once we get out.” This is a bad idea. This is probably even a worse than listening to Ruby and letting the Devil out of the cage.

“I am an Angel, Sam.” Lucifer says and Sam freezes, wondering if he read his mind. “I swear on my honor.”

“Your honor means _nothing_.” Sam bites back, the flash of hurt on Lucifer’s face satisfying some ugly part of him.

“You will not speak to my brother this way-”

“I swear on my grace, then.” Lucifer interrupts Michael, looking at Sam like he is the most important thing in the world, and damn but it is disturbing.

“A grace-oath means that an Angel cannot break his word, or else his grace is torn from him and scattered in a thousand pieces.” Michael injects darkly, glaring at Sam. Uniting with a true vessel is counted as a miracle, a blessing for an Archangel, and Sam Winchester has done nothing but reject Lucifer.

Sam takes a deep breath. The three of them, two Archangels and Lucifer’s vessel, stands facing each other in the cage. If this is his only chance to get out, back to Dean, his family, and live again, then he will take it.

“ _Yes_.” He breathed.

Lucifer smiles. A flash of light and, Lucifer stood, smiling blissfully at Michael, as bright as him, the Light Bringer, the Morning Star, should be. He is bright, has always been almost too bright, and the brightest ones are the ones who fall first.

Then Lucifer releases his grace, his energy and _lashes_ out at the walls of the cage. When the powers of an Archangel and his true vessel is combined this way, even the cage, the wall between worlds, gave way. Large, dark tears formed, glimpses into worlds that are not theirs.

 

“Are we going in?” Adam asks. Michael joins him in their mindspace.

“Yes.”

“Will we get out okay?” Adam is scared. And he is not afraid to admit that yes, Adam is pretty freaked out by this whole thing, because he likes it here, as absurd as it sounds, with only him and Michael and maybe Lucifer for company.

“I don’t know.” Michael is truthful, for he could not be anything but truthful to Adam. This shining, bright human who got himself caught in this mess. Adam nods, and leans up to kiss him.

It was a chaste kiss, a brush of lips. Michael returns the affections without a thought. He decided a long time ago that what he felt for the human is much more than friendship. They deepen the kiss, grasping at each other like drowning men.

“See you on the other side.” Adam tells Michael when they split, lips red and swollen. Michael nods and presses a kiss on his forehead, shimmering out of their mindspace.

They step into a tear in the universe.


	12. Dante's inferno

The First Circle of Hell.

Muffled screams of damned souls echoes through the walls of the passage. They bounce of the dark granite walls, grating the walls of Dean’s mind. He would imagine himself, dark and broken and twisted with his soul shifting into black smoke, from tortured to torturer.

The sounds of the souls bleeding and begging and darkening is overwhelming. Dean clutches his knife as a lifeline. Castiel notices, and he reaches for Dean, taking his hand into his own and squeezes for reassurance. Dean pushes his hand away.

“I don’t need you to hold my hand,” He growls at the curious looks the Demon casts at them. Castiel winces and hangs back, joining Balthazar in the back instead. Dean looks away. The path to hell is suffocating. The black walls glows a dim orange-red.

Coagulated blood collects on the jagged ground, staining all around them. The air stenches of sulfur and Demons. Belial leads the way, tense, glancing from side to side. They reach the bottom of the path. A large cavern, stalactites made of molten glass drips onto the bottomless pit in the center of the cavern. The black leads on endlessly, almost daring them to jump in. There is no sunlight here, yet light dances of the glass crystals by the sides of the walls. The pathway they came in from disappears. Dean jumps, agitated.

“What the _hell_ is _that_?!” He points at the missing entrance.

“Can’t let _them_ find out.” The Demon shrugs. Castiel has his hand on his throat.

“ **Hey**!” Balthazar shouts, grabbing Castiel by his arm as Dean pulls his knife out. The tension rises in the confined space.

“Let him _go_ , Cassie.” Balthazar tightens his grip.

“Is this a _trap_?” Castiel growls. Footsteps could be heard from above.

“Guards!” Belial chokes out, shoving the Angel away from him.

“What guards?” Dean asks, alert. The hissing sounds from above the cavern. Demons, he realized. In their smoke form. The sounds grew louder, closer. The oppressive heat and closeness of the walls did not help.

“They guard the pathways. We’ve been trying to _avoid_ them for the better part of an hour now.” Belial hisses.

“Now follow me, you _imbeciles_!” The Demon tells them and jumps into the pit, pulling Balthazar with him. Castiel leaps after his brother and Dean had no choice but to follow them. Damn demons and crazy angels. This fall is far longer than the previous one. If he ever falls through a black hole, Dean thinks that this’ll be it. The black sucks the light out of him, and he could make out dim pinpricks of light in front of him.

Castiel, Balthazar. Fitting that Belial don’t let out any light here. Voices swarmed out at him from the dark, crying save me, save me, save me. Laughter, too. High and inhuman and rotten. Azazel, Azazel, Azazel, the voices cried out, yellow eyes blinking at him from the dark. Dean almost reaches out, losing himself to the infinite blackness when Castiel appears again, fingers on the handprint as he pulls Dean, this time downwards. They were falling, _falling_.

The black rushes past him. It could be a second, or forever. Dean, save me! The voices calls out. They sounded like Sammy, but Sam is not here. Sam is somewhere far worse. He drops to the ground, and Castiel catches him.

“Thanks,” Dean says.

The Demon is bleeding from his mouth, and the other Angel fusses over him. Castiel looks towards them, the look on his face indecipherable.

“Angel and Demon.” Dean comments loudly. “Like something out of a bad romance novel.” Balthazar sticks out his middle finger towards Dean. Belial leans against him.

 

The Second Circle of Hell.

It’s fucking _cold_ in here, Dean thinks. And by the looks of Castiel and Balthazar’s frosted breath they are even more affected than he is. The Demon is the only one unaffected by the cold. Lucky bastard.

The pathway is wider, here. The ground is black like the sky. Their footsteps carries no noise at all. The cold is draining, eating away at his skin and soaking into his muscle. Eyeless imprints, echoes of lost souls wanders through them. Tall, twisted, screaming trees. Metallic by the looks of them. No leaves, but the branches reach up, up, up towards to black sky they fell from.

It’s a damn miracle they did not get impaled by one of these. There is a river here. A vast, running river. It came from nowhere and it runs to nowhere. Where is nowhere? The river is made of what looks like molten glass. Later, Balthazar tells them that it is a river of tears and desire. Weird.

Small blue lights clung to the dirty air, and to their skin. Wrong. They stick to Dean and Belial, and avoids the angels. Castiel looks at Balthazar’s arm, where the Demon’s mark is. The lights hangs around his arm. Castiel averts his gaze. Dean looks to Castiel, tense and uncomfortable. An Angel, so _out of place_ in Hell. Castiel fought through Hell to get to him, Dean realizes. Castiel fought through Hell to get to him. Dean feels strangely proud of his Angel. His. Where did that thought come from.

“Cas?” He asks. “You okay?” Castiel nods, terse and sharp. Dean pats his back, letting his hand linger on his shoulder before Cas shrugs him away. Dean pats his back again. His fingers tingle.

The trees twist and scream up to the sky. The sky is not a sky. It’s like a coffin that stretches from the beginning of time to the end of times. They just stopped the end of times. The river hisses and runs. The water is not water, but the thirst in his throat went from unnoticeable to scorching. It glistened, beckoning, and Dean stops walking, and steps closer. Everything slows down. He is dimly aware that he is the only one affected, as his travel companions stops and turns to look at him.

He wants to sleep. He is so tired. Dean deserves a break. He deserves _happiness_. It can give him happiness.

“Dean?” Castiel asks. His voice is far off, airy. Like it came from the back of his mind instead of right beside him. The very air above the waters shimmers. The back of Dean’s head feels heavy. Water would be good, so good right now. He needs water. Not just any water. Water from the river. He walks closer.

 _“Dean!”_ Castiel’s voice is loud, so loud. Dean spins around, away from the river. Cas’s eyes are blue, so blue. Dean licks his lips. He wants to kiss Cas. Ain’t that something?

“Shit.” He hears Balthazar mutter somewhere from the background.

 

Dean _kisses_ Castiel like he is air, need, like if he doesn't kiss him he would die- dragging them both into the river. Castiel tasted like desire, like joy. His big, blue eyes opens wide in surprise. They fall together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole hell thing is from my imagination, the title is inspired by Dante's inferno, though.


	13. Sharpen your knife

They step into the other side. Lucifer and Michael, and Sam and Adam. The tear in the cage could lead to somewhere, anywhere. It’s not like they expected it to lead to earth.

“Lucifer?” Michael whispers. He could feel the air around him writhe. Adam nudged against his grace, calming the fire.

“Michael!” Lucifer finds them. He is bright, burning so _bright_ and cold. The Morning Star. The _Light bringer_. Lucifer is glowing, and Michael is reminded of a time when they were young. The younger Angels avoided Michael, and even the Seraphs and Dominions were afraid to approach Michael, for he is vast and ancient and powerful. But they swarmed, oh they swarmed to Lucifer, so bright, too bright. The brightest ones always falls first.

“Where are we, Michael?!” Lucifer clutched at Michael’s shoulders. Michael shakes his head. Adam’s soul shivers against his grace. Agitated. He prods at the soul. Are you all right? What do you think? Adam snaps back, unnerved. Something is swarming against them, Michael realized. Something so pure and dark. It pulsed against his grace, and he could feel a dull itch against him. No wonder Adam is so irritated.

 _Lucifer?_ Sam asks from Lucifer’s mind, soul nestled against his grace.

 **Sam?** Lucifer answers, giddy with the feeling of connection to his true vessel.

 _Where are we?!_ Sam panics. Lucifer has a hold against him, the Devil’s grace burning cold against him, against his soul. The worst thing is that it feels good. It feels _right_ when it should feel _wrong_. Sam wants that feeling gone. Not on Earth! Lucifer tries to calm the soul inside him down.

**Sam! Calm down!**

“ ** _Get out!_** ” Sam screams.

Lucifer rips apart at the voice, grace tearing away from the body. Michael jumps away at the bright streak of light, desperately trying to calm Adam’s soul down.

 

“Get out.” Sam whispers. “Lucifer?” He asks. Sam is slammed back into his own body, a slight coolness underneath his skin all there is left of Lucifer’s presence. The fallen Angel was gone.

“What did you do to my brother!” Michael has Sam by his neck again.

“I can’t feel him!”

“What do you mean you can’t feel him?!” Sam panics a little. He only wanted Lucifer out of his body, not completely _gone._

“He is...” Michael steps away, reaching out with his grace. There is only piercing blackness, and whispers of ancient evils here in this in-between world. No sign of Lucifer, except for an echo of grace within Sam. His brother is gone.

“Gone.” Michael whispers. Michael? Michael! Adam reaches out for him, in his mind.

 _ **He is gone**._ Michael tells Adam. He just found his brother again, and now he is gone, and Michael can feel his wrath bubbling, burning, threatening to boil over. Michael always have a rather short temper. Adam whimpers a little, Michael’s grace burning imprints into his soul.

Michael, _stop_! He reaches out. Michael burns like fire, too hot, too bright. The Archangel keeps his power in check for Adam, too not burn him out- now? He is too angry to even notice Adam. That hurt, because Adam loves, yeah, _loves_ that bastard with a capital **L.** The world swims above his eyes, and everything _hurts_. It hurt even more than the time when he got eaten alive. This is like fire trying to eat through every sense of his being, right through Adam’s existence.

He carves into Michael’s grace with whatever this feeling is. He lets go when he cannot hold on anymore. Michael stops halfway through his tirade. Something is wrong.

“Adam?” He whispers. No answer. Michael reaches in with his grace. “Adam!”

Adam’s soul is gone. Not gone. _Burnt out_. Nothing left but a small imprint on his grace. Words. A thought. A feeling. He could make out words. _Love_. Adam said he _loves_ Michael. Michael screams, rage and fear and frustration.

 

 

 

“What happened to Adam?!” Sam runs to catch up with Michael. Adam is his little brother. Sam pulled him in. Sam is responsible for what happens to him.

“He is gone.”

“Like, Lucifer gone?” Sam asks, guilt settling in his stomach. What if he managed to fling Adam along with Lucifer? What if Adam is left alone with _Lucifer_?

Michael shakes his head.

“No.” He looks up, face frighteningly blank.

“He is gone. Burnt out.”

“ _What_ did you do to him?!”

“I don’t- I did not mean to.” Michael thinks out loud. It does not matter. Adam is gone. And the foolish human loves him. Loved him. There is an ache in his chest. He reaches out with his grace. Nothing left, except for the hole in his mind and the word seared into his heart. His human _loved_ him, Michael thought. Love. For all eternity all the love Michael knew of was the love for his father and brother. This is something _more_ , and he burnt it all away.

“He’s _gone_.” Michael says, and Sam understands. That does not mean he accepts it. Winchesters do not accept death easily.

“ _Find_ him, then!” Sam pulls Michael up by his collar. “I help you find your brother- you help me find _mine_!”

“It’s not that easy!” Michael shouts back. “I _destroyed_ his soul! I cannot bring him back from that!”

“Then _try_. At least you have to try. Adam _deserves_ that.”

“I know.” Michael nods. “He deserves _more_ than what I can give. But I need to be at full power to even attempt to do so.” Sam frowns.

“Full power?”

“I will need a vessel. One that is stronger than Adam.” Sam understood. Michael’s true vessel is Dean, but Dean is not here. They are of the same blood, and the next best thing here is Sam.

“You want me to say yes to you.”

“Yes. Then I will find Lucifer, and save Adam, and I will return your body to you.” At Sam’s doubtful look Michael adds a grace oath. He preferred to be with Adam, but this is the only way they can find their lost brothers. He cradles the small echo of Adam's soul, weaving it into his grace.

Using Sam Winchester as a vessel felt strange, like he is wearing another’s _skin_. When he united with Adam it was like wearing clothing a size too small. With Sam it is like wearing a strangers clothing. But they are so much _more_ than just vessels. Michael moves to pick up Adam’s body, so light and empty without Adam’s soul or Michael’s grace. He kisses his forehead and swears that he will bring him back.

 

A sharp scream pierces the void, assaulting Michael’s senses. An Angel's true voice. In pain.

 

 

_“Lucifer!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always love cliffhangers. Next chapter we will be swinging by Dean and Cas again. Toodles!


	14. Do you still believe in love I wonder

Dean falls into the river with Castiel. The kiss was like fire, scorching through Dean’s body. It feels _good_. It feels _right_ and as they were suspended above the river that flows through Hell’s second Circle Dean wonders why has he not done it before. Liquid magma runs through his veins, assaulting his senses as the river envelopes them. It was hot, boiling against the coolness of the second Circle.

The warmth is comforting. When Dean laid his lips upon him, Castiel returns the kiss without a thought. He is falling. Falling for his righteous man and this is wrong, because Dean would never feel this way for Castiel, the lost, fallen Angel. Castiel is not worthy of his affections, so he kisses Dean with desperation, wanting to show him just how much Castiel _needs_ him. He concludes that the river must be doing this to them.

A river of tears, parallel to the rivers of Eden. Tears from broken hearts and unfulfilled desires, Castiel recognizes. The river is warm, burning but not scorching. He allows himself to fall, but Dean cannot fall with him. He is too pure, and Castiel is too _broken_. He pours all he has into this kiss, one last good memory to keep and cherish for himself. Dean would surely be disgusted by this- by him. He pushes Dean up, dully noticing Balthazar’s hands grabbing onto him. His brother will be able to take Dean to the Cage. Castiel is extra baggage here. He is so tired. Castiel realizes. No use to _Dean_ this way. No use to Heaven or anyone else this way. The water covers him as he drifts down. Balthazar shouts at him from above, voice dulled by the river. Dean will be a better man without him. Castiel lets himself fall into oblivion.

 

Dean opens his eyes at the first touch of coldness to Balthazar and the Demon staring down at him grimly.

“Cas?” He croaks out, pushing himself up from the freezing ground, looking around for the trenchcoated Angel he just kissed. Oh, shit. He just kissed Cas. He just made out with _Cas_. _His_ Angel. And he kissed back and that thought should not make Dean feel all giddy on the inside but it does. It felt warm, and right, and Dean really don’t know what he did to deserve the affection he felt from Castiel. He looks around.

“Cas?” The Angel seems to have vanished. Shit. Where is he? What if he is disgusted by Dean’s actions? But he did kiss back, didn’t he.

“Cassie didn’t make it, kiddo.” Balthazar pats his back, chewing on his bottom lip. He wants, desperately to warn Dean to stay away from Castiel, but the broken up look on the human’s face tells him to stay quiet. Castiel always fall to hard. All at once and he just wants to protect his little brother, but he fails even at that.

 

“Oh.” Dean stands numbly, walks with the remaining Angel and the Demon, the cold air not so cold compared to the icy pit in his stomach. He refuses to believe that Castiel is gone. Confused, jumbled memories tells him otherwise. Castiel kissing him, lips cool against the warm liquid. Castiel holding onto him. Castiel letting go, pushing Dean up to the ground. He should have held on, _tried harder_ , Dean thought. It was _his_ fault that Cas let go. Why did he let go? The thought hurt, and his chest aches.

Dean growls, clutching at his knife, knuckles white. The coldness slides pass his skin and sinks into his muscles and bones, curling up in every part of his body. His soul hurts at the prospect of Cas being gone. Dean just cannot fathom why Cas let go. Maybe it’s because Dean is a Winchester, and everything, everyone good that Dean gets attached to eventually leaves or dies or disappears. Castiel is too _good_ for him, and now he is gone, too. And the blame rests fairly and squarely on Dean.

“You have to go on your own.” The Demon taps Dean’s shoulder. “Fraid I can’t take you down further.”

“Why?” Dean asks, voice dry and rough, not letting his hurt and heartbreak slip through.

“You have to find your own way.” Balthazar tells Dean, handing him his Angel sword. “I've got another. The only way down from here is warded from Angels and Demons.”

“It’s a secret passage.” Belial shifts away from Dean, casting wary glances at the knife he holds. “I discovered it by accident. I think it leads straight to the cage, but-” He waves a hand helplessly at the sigils that covers the doorway.

 

Dean nods, turning his back on the Angel and the Demon. He steps into the entrance, eyes hard. He is a man with a mission. Find Sam. Find Cas. Piece his family back together again. They deserve better than to be poisoned by Dean’s curse. They deserve far better than what he has to give.

 

Castiel finds himself drifting downwards, losing himself to the flow of warmth around him. It was almost enough to fill in the gaping hole in his chest that Dean left. He wants to curse Dean for changing him in ways he did not know could be changed.

Castiel is eternal, Dean is supposed to be a merely a blip in his long life. Instead, Dean became everything for Castiel. He is too bright, like the sun, yet Castiel could not look away, could not bring himself to look away even as he burned. Castiel breated in the smokes of hell as he washes up on the river bank. Hell is not just neat levels, circles.

Hell is even more layered and puzzling than Heaven. And although Castiel has been careful, Dean’s kiss stripped away even his barest sense of self defense. Dean makes him weak, and Castiel will gladly fall to his knees for him.

 

“Hello, little Angel.” A voice above him calls, the stench of sulfur strong and overwhelming.

 

“Crowley.”


	15. Mad World

The pain of being flung away from his true vessel by Sam hurts. Lucifer coughs, finding himself in his first vessel again. He lies in the void, the cold seeping into his already freezing grace. The creatures from beyond perdition hissed above the Archangel, circling him with thousands upon thousands of black, watchful eyes, speaking with languages beyond even the perceptions of the fallen one.

Lucifer attempts to stand, but an invisible force pushes him down until he was gasping for air that does not exist to fill his invisible lungs. He needs to get back- back to Sam and Michael. He needs to warn them of the darkness that resides. The things hisses at him throwing his grace at them. The light cannot touch them, but they seem outraged at Lucifer for daring to oppose them. They tear into him, ripping his grace, his power apart thread by thread, dismantling him. They wanted to give him a slow death.

He cries out in his true voice, displacing the abominations momentarily. His body rips at it’s seams at his attempts to struggle. Lucifer begins to drift away, his sight blurring. Is this how he is going to die, after all this time? He would rather fall by Michael’s sword tan to lie here bleeding out. A large hand curled behind his body, warm grace pouring into him, fixing up the broken edges.

 

“ _Michael..._ ” Lucifer whispers, trying to look at his brother. Sam’s face smiles down at him, pressing a kiss on his forehead. He closes his eyes, losing himself to the warmth. Being Michael’s vessel is different from being Lucifer’s vessel. It felt so right with Lucifer, they were at one with each other, complete. Michael’s presence is like a constant itch beneath his skin, like a fire that would burn him from the inside out. He bears it, and Michael lets his anger out, no longer afraid of hurting his vessel. The eldest Archangel was truly a force of nature, raging against the shadows that attacked his brother.

Sam watches the creatures slither away, knowing that if Lucifer is in a vessel instead of being out there as nothing but light and wavelengths he would not be as vulnerable as he is now. It’s not Sam’s fault, Sam thinks. He can’t have Lucifer taking control of his body. Michael sets Lucifer and Adam’s body down, muttering in Enochian, pulling Lucifer together bit by bit.

“I’ll let you go now,” He tells Sam. It’s a little lonely in Adam’s body without the boy’s bright, young soul. Michael keeps the shred of his soul he still has cradled tightly in his grace. He can find the rest of Adam’s soul, piece it together bit by bit. Michael broke him and Michael will fix him again. Lucifer blinks his eyes open and sees Sam. Not Michael wearing Sam’s skin, just Sam and his body relaxes in relief.

"Hey.” Sam says, pulling Lucifer up and shifting awkwardly. Lucifer ignores him, turning to Michael instead, wrapping his arms around his brother and Sam feels a little pang in his chest- not jealousy, definitely not jealousy- God, Sam’s little brother is gone and Sam is standing here feeling jealous that the Devil decided to hug his big brother instead of Sam.

The three of them walk, Michael leading the way and Sam and Lucifer falling into a familiar rhythm behind him. Lucifer tries to not look at Sam. Being at one with his vessel, his true vessel was like nothing he has ever felt before. He had other vessels, of course. Other true vessels, too. He could see their lives unfold in this world outside the cage, see and never touch but it was not until Sam came along that Lucifer felt the burning need to be with him. For an Angel, being rejected, tossed out of a vessel’s body hurts, but Lucifer is hurting in more ways than that. He stifles a manic laugh at the realization that he is _fading_. D

Only Angels who lose their mates fade. Somehow, somewhere along the way Sam became more than just his true vessel and became his mate. Being rejected by a mate was the primary cause of Angelic deaths before the first war. Sam does not want him. That Lucifer knows. He hides the cracks in his grace and hopes that Michael does not notice. When Angels fade, the process is usually long and painful. They will unravel, and, one day, they will cease to exist. Perhaps this is a good thing,  Lucifer thought. 

 

Michael feels the cracks in his grace, and he pulls himself together, refusing to falter or fade. Adam is his mate, and he is in danger, and Michael will save his mate. As long as the small piece of Adam stays with him, Michael will have hope. Michael notices Lucifer’s light faltering and he stops walking, setting his pace to match his brother’s.

“Lucifer.” Michael whispers, gripping the other Archangel’s wrist. The gashes in his grace is larger, fresher, more noticeable than the ones in Michael.

“Michael.” Lucifer’s voice cracks, and he takes Michael’s hand. Michael leads the way, just like how they used to be. His grace reaches out for Lucifer, tangling into his, and for a moment they were flying above the clouds of a newly made earth again.

“I’m sorry, brother.” Michael grips Lucifer’s hand tightly, letting his brother ground himself so that he will not lose himself.

“Me too.” Lucifer murmurs, moving closer to Michael. His mate rejected him, and Michael’s mate is lost in the void, but at least they still have each other. Lucifer remains steady on his feet, Michael being the anchor he needed.

“Thank you.” Lucifer tells Michael, open and honest. Just like how it used to be, because here, at a place where either of them could die at any moment, they could finally afford to be true to each other and themselves. Michael leans over, placing another kiss on his brother’s forehead.

 

Sam watches the exchange, small bubbles of rage in his heart. He is angry at Michael for forgetting about Adam so soon, and at Lucifer for reasons he cannot explain. It is impossible, he reasons. Michael and Lucifer is like him and Dean, but the exchange he sees convinces him that there is something more there, something only they understand, and Sam fumes silently, pushing the thoughts into the back of his mind.


	16. Falling Down, falling down

“Crowley.” Castiel pushes himself up, glaring at the Demon king.

“Hello, Angel. Seems like you lost your, ah, _mate_.” Crowley smirks and Castiel flinches at the word mate. Dean is not his mate. No one, no Angel nor human will be willing to be with someone like Castiel. Wrong, broken. He wonders why his father made him this way. Different. Damaged.

“Don’t call me that.” Castiel growls.

“Now, now.” Crowley wags a finger, dispersing the Demons he keeps around. “Don’t get angry here, Cas, but, ah,” He waves a hand around the empty space. “You are here, and this is my turf. So how about a deal?”

Castiel glares at the Demon, hoping that the rifts in his grace, ripped so widely open that they are gushing, breaking apart- are not noticed. Crowley has a keen eye, and Castiel cannot afford to show weakness. Crowley whistles.

“Fading, are we? Looks like Deano left more than a _mark_ on you, kitten.” Castiel coughs, wanting to rebuke Crowley’s comments. His body is burning up, his grace too focused on attempting not to fall apart that it is no longer protecting him from the fires of Hell. He has no regrets. Castiel only wishes that he can kiss Dean one more time before he disappears completely.

“Shut up, Crowley.” Castiel rasps, moving away from the Demon King. Every step is painful, tugging on the part of him that wants, needs Dean’s proximity. He curses the man for making him feel like this. Sometimes, Castiel wishes that he has never met Dean, or that some other Angel pulled him out of Hell. The thought of one of his brothers or sisters pulling Dean out instead makes him feel a little sick and Castiel leans against the sulfuric walls of Hell, inhaling the hot air into his vessel’s hurting lungs.

“No offense there, Angel, but you are really not in good shape right now.” Crowley drawls, offering his hand in another mocking gesture. “Like I said, the deal-”

 

“Cassie’s not making any deals here, Crowley.” Balthazar’s voice, uncharacteristically low and dangerous, sounds from behind Crowley as he pulls out a silver blade and lays it on the King’s neck. “Or I kill you.”

“Ah, you might not just want to threaten me yet.” Crowley holds his hands up. “We can make a deal?”

“No deals, Crowley. Let my brother go.”

“Not so soon, Balthy. You do know that crossroad Demons is my division, right? I’m invested. Personally.”

Balthazar stiffens. “No deals.” He growls out a second later, shoving Crowley away, grabbing Castiel and disappearing. Crowley rubs his neck, snapping his fingers and disappearing back into his office. The Angels would come back, he thinks, grinning and pouring himself a drink.

 

“Cassie.” Balthazar drags Castiel back to the crossroads at the entrance to Hell. Belial leans against a tree at the side of the road.

“We should go. Crowley will come after me sooner or later.” He looks around, stuffing a hex bag into Balthazar’s arm. “Let’s run away?” He asks the Angel, lips quirking up nervously.

“Yeah, lets do just that.” Balthazar grabs onto both Castiel and the Demon, shifting them into a motel room, drawing even more sigils onto the walls and windows, taking out the salt and lining the windowsills and doorways.

“Sorry.” He mumbles sheepishly to his Demon, who just rolls his eyes, and points to the bathroom.

Balthazar drags Castiel into the bathtub, letting tendrils of his grace reaching out for Castiel’s grace. His eyes widens at the broken and pitted state Castiel’s grace is in.

“Christ, you’re hanging on a _thread_ , Cas.” Castiel groans, pushing his forehead into the cool porcelain, hoping that it would absorb some the heat. Balthazar’s grace reached for him, tending to his invisible wounds. They are too deep to fully heal, but Balthazar, the luckiest of them all can at least help. At least he has a mate. Castiel was almost jealous for a moment.

“I..kissed him.”

“Yeah, I know. From what I saw, Dean’s pretty broken up over you running off like that.” Balthazar sighs as Castiel shakes his head.

“He’s too _good_ for me.” Castiel sounds a little broken and a little sad, his eyes red rimmed and his voice hoarse from the coughing.

“ _Cas_.” Balthazar grabs his brother by his shoulders, shaking him a little, and presses their foreheads together, looking the younger Angel in the eyes. “If anything, you are too good for him. Don’t ever talk about yourself like that. _Please_.”

Castiel just shakes his head. He cannot expect Balthazar, or anyone else, really, to understand. Dean is a good man in all the ways Castiel isn’t. “I’m too tired, Balthazar.” He leans into his brother’s touch, wanting just a little bit of comfort that the being with another Angel brings.

“I know, Cassie. You got me.” Balthazar sighs, and makes a note to himself to give Dean Winchester hell next time he sees him.

“You got me.”

“Thank you.” Castiel whispers, feeling his eyelids drooping as Balthazar took the pain away. It’s easier to sleep now, without the screaming ache in his bones and his grace constantly tearing itself apart. Balthazar carries his sleeping brother out, placing him on one of the motel beds.

 

“Hey.” He taps Belial’s back, the Demon looking wistfully out at the night.

“Hey.” The Demon sighs, leaning into the Angel.

“I’m lucky I got you, you know.” He chuckles. Balthazar presses a kiss on the Demon’s forehead, letting another bit of grace sinking into the warped soul, seeing into Belial’s past. A man who sold his soul for his family’s good fortunes. He wonders where they are now.

“Yeah, I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question: Do you prefer shorter daily/once every two days updates or longer, but less frequent updates?


	17. Kinda out of Luck

Michael picks up another shred of Adam’s grace on their way through the strange lands. The void, the in between world has passed but they are not yet home, and will not be home for a long time. He senses that Adam’s soul is scattered, through so many worlds and lands that it would be impossible to piece them all together. Michael intended to try. If his mate dies, then he fades with him.

Slowly, they journey towards the Earthly planes. They pass through the void through a small crack in it’s walls, into a strange, grey world. The skies here is a monotonous gray, and the landscape is endless fields of uncannily similar trees and rocks. It reminded them of the cage, except it was not the cage. The cage is too quite and completely empty except for them. Here, the hustle of leaves against wind and feet against rocks pierce the emptiness. They are not alone here.

Michael almost got jumped by a vampire, a large bite mark on the side of his arm reminding Sam that the creatures he used to hunt lives here, too. Michael smites the vampire, muttering something darkly about ‘Purgatory’ and hauls Lucifer up, slinging the younger Archangel’s arm across the back of his neck and carries him, despite Lucifer’s protest.

“It’s dangerous here,” Michael whispers later to his brother under the shade of a particularly large tree. “The creatures, they can _sense_ your grace fading.”

“That just makes me a _liability_ , then,” Lucifer hisses to Michael. “I should leave. It’s dangerous for all of us.” He looks to Sam, asleep after the exhaustion from running away from the creatures of Purgatory.

“No.” Michael says sharply. “You will not leave.”

“I will fade, brother. Sooner or later. It’s better if I leave now.” Lucifer knows that fading will be a long, painful, and slow process. Dying by the hands of the creatures of Purgatory is a much more merciful way for him to go.

“You will _not_ fade.” Michael tells him stubbornly. Michael has always been stubborn. In his loyalty to their father, his devotion to Heaven and his love for the human he occupies. It’s impossible, Lucifer thinks, for Michael to piece Adam together again from the scraps Michael managed to salvage.

Lucifer does not comment on it. It gives Michael enough hope to stay alive, and not decay away like Lucifer. Michael was obsessed, but that obsession sustains him in this land of lost, monstrous souls. Lucifer turns to look at Sam instead. The one human that he does not despise, for all that he has done, the Demon blood and the last seal, Sam’s soul is still bright and perfect and whole and it hurts to see him like this. Pathetic, Lucifer thinks, berating himself. This is pathetic. He should just accept that his other half, his soulmate would have nothing to do with him, will reject him at every turn. Too bad that Lucifer is not one that deals well with such rejection.

 

 

They trudge through the dreary landscape of Purgatory,

Michael up front and Lucifer at the back. Sam feels slightly guilty for wanting to stop and rest and eat and sleep. He is far away from home, with only two Archangels for company. Wanting to sleep is him clinging onto familiarity. He misses Adam, the little brother he never knew of. Another innocent Sam pulled into this mess. At least, if he was here, Sam would have another human for company.

Lucifer stays away from Sam, opting to follow Michael wherever he goes, and, despite how much Sam wants to protest it, Sam wants Lucifer close again. If only to feel the cold grace thrum beneath the borrowed skin Michael made for him.

Michael again, Sam scowls, feeling his resentment well up at the older Archangel. Lucifer was his, Sam thought vehemently, and stops dead in his tracks, desperately tracing his train of thought to see how he ended up here. Was it when he saw Lucifer’s darkest memories exposed to light? Or when he heard him sing in tangent with Michael? Or was it- Sam shakes his head and catches up, almost laughing at himself at the ridiculousness of all this.

He has a honest to God crush. Feelings. For _Lucifer_ , of all people. When he gets out, Sam decided. He will see a shrink. Preferably one that caters to hunters-turned law students turned vessel for the Devil himself that has a crush on said Devil.

* * *

 

Adam wakes up from the searing pain of Michael unknowingly burning him into oblivion in a garden. Except it was not a garden. It’s beauty, Adam thinks, beauty and life and creation in it’s purest forms and it is slightly overwhelming. Is there life after a soul has been destroyed?

There is a man standing in the middle of this garden, a man in a dirty bathrobe with his hands held behind his back, grinning at Adam and kicking the empty beer bottles away.

“Are you God?” Adam asks, eyes wide. Who else _could_ this be, in a place like this?

The man smiles nervously, scratching his beard.

“Actually, it’s, uh, Chuck.”

“Chuck?”

“I’m, kinda, God’s... _vessel_ , you would say. God’s vessel on Earth.” He laughs again, still kicking the beer bottles.

“God needs a vessel?” Adam walks up to him- Chuck, helping him to kick the bottles somewhere behind a bush(this is a garden, after all). Chuck shrugs.

“Beats me. I kinda passed out when he showed up.”

“What does God look like?” Adam’s curiosity got to him.

“Like me. I mean-” Chuck shifts from foot to foot. “He, uh, appeared to me as me. Not to be arrogant, or anything.”

“Nah.” Adam shrugs.

 

“Hey, I’ll introduce you to a friend!” Chuck pats Adam’s back, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s appearing in his hand. “Nick! Nicky!” He shouts, bathrobe shaking in the wind. Adam wonders how the hell this man ended up as God’s vessel.

“Don’t call me that!” A familiar voice shouted out from behind a tree. Adam gawks a little at what appears to be Lucifer stepping out to face him.

 

“Not Lucifer, kiddo.” The man sighs. “Lucifer’s former temporary vessel, current burnt out soul living-” He waves a hand around. “Here.”

“Oh.” Adam says. “Uh, Michael’s former temporary vessel, also a burnt out soul?” Nick shakes his hand.

Chuck drinks the alcohol and summons another bottle.

Adam tries not to let how surreal this all is get to him.


	18. Two Steps From Hell

Dean roars, plunging Sam’s knife in another cackling Demon. Whirlwinds of black smoke surrounds him, threatening to suffocate. The anti-possession tattoo and left-over grace from Castiel keeps the Demons from possessing him, but still they attacked.

Grating voices sounds from behind his back, like nails on a chalkboard, listing out all of Dean’s torturous crimes he committed in hell. He grits his teeth, fighting against the black eyed bastards. There were hundreds of Demons here, thousands upon thousands, and they all know who Dean Winchester is.

No matter how good of a hunter he is, Dean cannot defeat them all. Not on their own turf.

 

Dean wakes up in a black, white office room. The strong smell of cleaning agents assaults his nostrils and he wrinkles his nose. There is something about this place that makes his skin want to _crawl_ off his back and the hair on the back of his neck stand on their edges. The room is empty. The floor, the ceiling and the walls glows, an eerie white light that hurts his eyes.

Dean is alert, every breath he takes echoing against the walls. He turns at the sudden presence behind him. Crowley waves a bottle of amber liquid at him. It’s unfair, Dean thinks, for a Demon to get all the top quality alcohol.

“Drink, Dean?” Crowley asks, summoning a desk and sitting down on a large, cushy chair. He summons another chair opposite the desk.

“ _Sit,_ please.” Dean sat, still glaring at Crowley.

“What the hell do you want, _Crowley_?” He asks, clenching his jaw.

“Don’t go barking orders at me now, Squirrel.” Crowley answers mildly. Smarmy bastard. “You know, you’re Angel is not in good condition right now.” Crowley pours himself a drink, only to have the glass splatter into pieces on the floor of the room as Dean leaps over the table and shoves his knife by Crowley’s throat.

“What did you do to him.” Dean’s eyes darkens, sickened by the prospect of Cas being in Hell, at Crowley’s mercy.

“Relax, Dean- I’m not the one doing anything to the Angel. You are.”

“What do you mean?” Dean presses the knife in, the blade hissing in contact with sulfurous blood. Crowley leans back. Twice in a day he has a knife that could kill him pressed at his throat.

“Don’t you know anything about Angelic biology?” Crowley asks. He rolls his eyes at Dean’s confused stare. “Get your knife off me and I’ll _explain_. _Slowly_.” Dean scowls.

“Angelic biology.”

“Yes, Angelic biology.” Crowley rolls his eyes. He’d expected these Hunters to actually brush up on Angel lore since they got one of them on their side. But, no. People. Really. “They mate for life. Turns out Cassie there sees you as his mate, and you somehow managed to convince him that you, ah, rejected him, and now the Angel is dying. _Good luck_.”

“What?” Dean asks, staring at Crowley. A deafening sound rushes through his mind. Castiel. Mate. Dying. Castiel is dying and it’s somehow Dean’s fault, why?

“It’s called fading.” Crowley shrugs. “Usually a long, painful process that happens when an Angel loses their” He looks at Dean. “Ah, soulmates.”

“Then what?” Their what? Soulmates?

“Then they die. Really, Dean, have you been listening?” Dean sinks back down into the chair. He needs to get to Sam. Castiel is dying and needs his help. Sam is in the deepest pit of Hell with Lucifer. Castiel is tearing himself to shreds literally because of some perceived rejection. Where the hell did it all went wrong?

“Oh-” Crowley adds as an afterthought.“I can let you out of Hell to see your friend.”

“Name your price.” Dean groans, putting his face into his hands. Dealing with Crowley. If Sam could see how low he has sunk. What about Sam?

“Oh, and Lucifer’s cage is no longer here. Seems like he managed to bugger out of here.” Dean snaps up.

“What do you mean?”

“It means _Lucy_ broke out of his cage. The entirety of Hell who is here at the time felt it.”

“What do you want?” Crowley is giving Dean information. Information that he did not need to give. Dean is not that much of an idiot. There is a catch here. There has to be, or he is going to seriously doubt Crowley’s credibility as a Demon.

“To see an old friend, of cause.” Crowley raises his new glass. “The grumpy old one, of course.”

“You want to see Bobby?” Dean stiffens. This is no good. Bobby has been through so much, so damn much for Dean and Sam and even Cas.

“Hell no.”

“Well.” Crowley shrugs again. “You’ll have to make your own way out then. I’ll see you out, Squirrel. Good Luck with Kitten and Moose.”

 

“Wait.” Dean grits his teeth, glaring at Crowley. “What do you want with Bobby.”

Crowley smirks. “That’s the spirit, Deano.” He carries on. “Is it so hard to believe that I just want to talk with the old man?”

“You’re probably _older_ than him.” Dean points out.

“Bollocks, you got me there.”

“Just to talk?”

“Just to talk, Squirrel. _Pinkie promise_. Deal?”

“Do I have to kiss you?” Dean makes a face.

“Nope! I’m the king of Hell, I can make deals without needing to mack faces with anyone.” Crowley shudders. “Let’s shake on it, then.”

Dean shakes Crowley’s hand numbly, wondering the implications of Lucifer’s Cage being destroyed. Where is Sam now? If he is out, then why is he avoiding Dean? Lucifer could have whisked him off to somewhere, anywhere, Dean thought, gripping his knife tight.

Crowley drops Dean off at the old Salvage Yard.

“Wait!” Dean calls out to the Hell King’s retreating back.

“If you don’t need to kiss to seal a deal, then _why the hell_ did you make out with Bobby?!”


	19. Choking on their Halos

Sam most definitely do not have any type of feelings for Lucifer. It’s _Lucifer_. He trudges behind the two Archangels. They pull up, resting by the stream. A vampire, Benny Lafitte, travels with them. A goddamn vampire. He did save their lives, so Sam has nothing to say. But even the vampire is closer with Lucifer than he is- no, bad thoughts. They seem to get along.

Michael watches his brother and the vampire lean against the tree, joking with each other. Lucifer has always been fond of jokes. Perhaps that’s where Gabriel got it from. He shook his head. Gabriel’s death weighs on him and Lucifer. Michael is also to blame.

But Lucifer’s odd friendship with the new addition with their crew is slowing the process of his deterioration, so Michael has nothing to say. He pulls Sam aside.

 

“Winchester.” Michael growls. “Do not think of me as someone easily fooled. I _see_ the way you look at my brother.” Sam’s eyes widen by a fraction. His lips twitches nervously.

“So this is a shovel talk? Are you asking me to back off?” He asks Michael. Physically, Sam is taller than Michael, but the Archangel exerts an air of power.

Michael frowns in confusion. “No. I am merely requesting you to actively pursue Lucifer.” Sam gapes.

“What?”

“My brother. He is bonded to you.”

“Right. Right.” Sam runs his hand through his hair and looks back at Lucifer. What does that even mean- _bonded_? Sam would rather not think about Lucifer, at all. He tried to end the world. He helped Sam. The bond between Archangel and vessel goes both ways, and Sam can feel Lucifer tugging at him. There is definitely a bond there, like they are _two halves of a whole_ , but he does _not_ want to think of it that way, he does not want to think of it _at all_.

 

Sam ends up avoiding both Michael and Lucifer for the next few days, opting to talk to Benny instead. The vampire was good company, with his good natured humor and southern drawl. He can put this magnetic attraction to the back of his mind.

Then the Leviathans attacked. Benny warned them about the creatures, the primordial piles of black goo with their humanoid shapes. They are fast and powerful, throwing even the Archangels off their feet.

“Behind you!” Benny yells from the ground, the Leviathan’s head rolling away from it’s body. Sam turns around, the creature lunging for him. It was too late for him to move away, Michael grappling with another Leviathan, too far away to reach them.

Lucifer jumps on the Leviathan, his arm caught in it’s jaws as he pushes it away from Sam, rolling down the steep hill. Michael throws the Leviathans off him, yelling “Lucifer!” and leaps down the hill after his brother. Lucifer yells as the Leviathan’s sharp teeth pierces the skin on his arm, through muscle and sinew and into his grace, the white-blue liquid dripping down his arm.

The thing clamped down on his back, his neck, tearing into his shoulder blades and his wings, snapping the fragile bone as Lucifer screams, manifesting them into whatever plane Purgatory rests upon. The winds from the wings knocks over the Leviathan temporarily. It stood, glaring at Lucifer, and there is an _uncanny_ intelligence in it’s eyes. It disappears as soon as Michael appears, not keen on taking on two Archangels at once, even when Lucifer is injured.

Lucifer falls on Michael, and Michael manifests his large red wings, wrapping them around Lucifer. Lucifer is proud, and Michael knows that he does not wish to show his weakened state to their companions. His wings reach out, stroking Lucifer’s light blue ones.

“Brother.” Michael whispers, pressing his forehead against Lucifer’s, stroking his face. Lucifer leans against Michael, gripping Michael’s shirt tight. The pain in his damaged wing searing through his body, his grace, even the slightest movement drawing out a throb of pain. Michael’s warm grace threaded itself within Lucifer’s, fixing the worst of the damage.

Lucifer reaches back, fixing the subtle tears in Michael’s grace. Michael is stubborn in his attempts to bring his mate back, but hope wears thin in a place like Purgatory. Michael presses two fingers to Lucifer’s forehead, letting him rest. He carries his brother out to the clearing, Benny and Sam packing their supplies and weapons, moving away from the area of the battle as soon as possible.

He sets Lucifer down by a tree, the blond’s head lolling to his shoulders, his entire body slumped against the ground.

Sam stares at Lucifer and Michael’s wings. It’s hard not to. Even Benny is casting appreciative glances at the large appendages, raising his eyebrows when Sam elbows him. Michael’s wings are larger, a dark, vibrant red. What catches Sam’s attention is Lucifer’s wings. They are white, with a subtle blue glow, and Sam wants to stroke the feathers. No, he reminded himself. Devil. Must remember.

Benny sighs besides him, clapping his back and giving Sam a knowing look. Sam flushes- did he really project that loudly? Michael strides over, dragging Sam over to one side, body tense with anger, wings flexing and unflexing. He glares darkly at Sam.

“Lucifer-” He tilts his head in Lucifer’s general direction, where Benny is setting up camp. “Will not be able to make it. Unless you pull your head out of your behind and _do something_.” He growls, looking up.

It’s like being hit over the head. Sam’s mind rings with the _finality_ of the statement. The thought of Lucifer dying- his body lying on the ground without a trace of life, wings fanned out, not moving- It makes Sam want to kneel over and throw up.

“What-” He forces himself to speak over the bile rising up in his throat- “What do I have to do?”

“Whatever you want with my brother, just _do it_. Don't fight the bond. _Please_.” Michael asks, suddenly weary.

Sam bites his lower lip. He wants this- this is Michael giving explicit permission, begging him, even. And he wants. He wants to give in to the pull Lucifer has on him. Yet the panic still rises up in his mind. It’s Lucifer, a traitorous voice in his mind says. Even if he don’t need to wear you now, what will happen if you get back? Sam shifts uncomfortably.

“I-” He avoids Michael’s gaze. “I _can’t_.”


	20. Be my baby tonight

“Hello there, old friend.” Crowley grins at Bobby’s surprised expression. The Hunter has a gun pointing at him in less than a second. “I’m _hurt_.” Crowley backs away. “I thought you liked me.”

Bobby grunts, and shoots Crowley.

“Is this how you treat a lady?”

“Shut up and talk, why the _hell_ are you here?”

“Interesting choice of words.” Crowley strides in, careful to avoid the Devil’s trap painted on the ceiling. “Can you unproof some of the rooms here, I find that insulting.”

“No.” Bobby shoots again and Crowley jumps out into the yard.

“C’mon now, darling, just to talk?"

 “Fine. Get in the trap, and we _talk_.”

“ _Fine_.”

* * *

 

 

 

Dean prays again. He parks the impala at the side of a road, the sun setting upon her sleek body. The red, orange, golden lights spilled out on the road, and Dean sighs.

“Cas? Can you hear me?”

 

Castiel sits up from the motel bathroom with a gasp. “ _Dean_!” He cries out, hearing Dean’s voice in his head, hearing Dean’s prayers- all the fresh wounds _ripping_ open again.

“Cassie?!” Balthazar rushes in, finding Castiel clutching at his head, screaming in pain.

“It’s Dean. He’s _praying_ to me.” Castiel whispers, tears streaking down his face, hands clutching painfully at his hair, tearing out black strands as he shakes.

“Answer him, then!” Balthazar shouts.

“What’s going on?” Belial asks from outside the room.

“I can’t!” Castiel groans. “I cannot! You do not understand, Balthazar!” He turns to his brother.

“Bel.” Balthazar turns to the Demon and hisses. Belial rolls his eyes.

“You owe me one, Balthy,” He waves his hand. Balthazar moves the salt line on the front door, kissing the Demon on his cheek.

“Stay safe.” He tells him.

 

Dean leans against his car, the sky an inky blue, just before night fall. He has half a mind to just ignore the fact that Castiel did not answer. The hurt wells up in his chest, and he turns to the skies again. Damn _Angels_.

“Cas! I _know_ you can hear me!” He’s pretty fucking lucky, that there is no one else here on this lonely stretch of road, talking to himself like a pathetic moron.

“Cas! I sound like an idiot, but, please. Answer me. I _need_ your help.”

 

“Cassie.” Balthazar cups his brother’s face. “Get it together, _please_.”

“I _can’t_ face him. Not like _this_.” Castiel leans against the bathtub, closing his eyes, feeling the icy chill of the porcelain sinking into his skin. Bathazar sighs, patting Castiel on his head, before striding out of the motel room. He needs to get these two idiots to actually understand each other, if this is the last thing he does.

 

“Hey there, buddy.” Balthazar appears to Dean, who has his gun drawn and pointed at him as soon as he hears his presence. Good reflexes. Definitely a suitable mate for Castiel. If only Cassie can get his head out of his ass.

“Balthazar?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are _you_ here?” Dean cocks the gun. “Where is Cas?” Balthazar rolls his eyes.

“Relax, Deano. Taking you right to him.” He grabs Dean’s arm before the man could protest and hauls him a state away into the motel room parking lot. Balthazar leaves Dean alone in the bathroom, Castiel staring up at him with those big blue eyes, arms hugging around his knees, curled up in the corner of the bathtub- is that tear marks on his face?

“Dean.” Cas whispers and tries to get up, only to slip and fall over again. Dean reaches out, catching him before he fell. He could practically feel the heat and pain radiating off him.

“Cas! You okay?” Dean asks, setting him down.

“Why did you kiss me?” Castiel throws the question at Dean, straight to the point. He wants to hear the answer. Castiel knows the reasons, _know_ that the rejection is inevitable, but he needs to hear it from Dean.

“I shouldn’t have.” Dean says, after a long, uncomfortable silence. Castiel’s question was like a bucket of cold water dumped straight on his head. Of course he would be all broken up about it, Dean thinks. Someone like Dean actually liking someone like Cas? Dean had flings with guys before, but Castiel is an Angel and that is different. It runs too deep, cuts too deep and now Dean has slipped up, gave in to his desires and he will deal with the consequences. Because Castiel was _innocent_ , like a clean, blank slate, and one thing Dean is good at is corrupting the most innocent things. Dean knows that he is no good for anything.

“It was a _mistake_.”

Dean words came at him like physical blows. Castiel fought the urge to flinch, to curl away, and disappear to sweet oblivion. Instead, he looked into Dean’s green eyes, and sees the truth for himself. Dean is not lying. He truly believes that it was a mistake, because even he could tell that _Castiel_ is a mistake. God made him wrong.

“Yes it was.” Castiel answers, cold and emotionless. Dean winces. Damn, but that did hurt. Even when he expected it it still hurt like hell.

“Lets...just put that behind us, then.” Dean made up his mind. He still want to be friends with Castiel. Well, he wants to be more than friends, really. But he values their friendship more. Their connection.

“Yes. Lets.” Castiel pulls himself up from the tub, legs shaking. If he is human his heart would be in pieces already. But he is only an imperfect angel hopelessly fallen for a man that does not want him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, lots of self-loathing?


	21. I've been waiting for you, for a very long time

Michael freezes.“What do you mean you _can’t_?” He slams Sam against the tree, splintering he wood.

“It’s Lucifer!” Sam roars back.

“I’m not going to be his vessel again! I don’t want _anything_ to do with him!” Michael recoils back, eyes hardening. He drags Sam away, seething with silent anger.

Lucifer shifts his wings back into the metaphysical plane, and Sam suddenly regrets not agreeing with Michael. He wants to see Lucifer’s wings again- they were restless, feathers shifting against each other, with bones like glass that glistened underneath the dull lights of Purgatory. Sam shakes his head. He is not going to wax poetic about Lucifer’s wings, of all things. Lucifer may appear attractive, but Sam could say that it’s just the vessel. But his wings- that’s all Lucifer, and Sam is frightened by the prospects, by the implications. Sam was never more complete than when he was one with Lucifer. He feels like a selfish bastard for some reason, for rejecting Michael’s offer. For rejecting _Lucifer_.

The Archangel looks like death warmed over, eyes sunken into his skull, hair mussed up, swaying slightly while walking and leaning against Michael. They reach the pit of Purgatory. What is called the center of this gray, hopeless land.

“Purgatory has an Ocean?” Sam asks Benny. The vampire shrugs. “I’ve only heard about it, brother.” They stand on the edge of a cliff, looking down on the shimmering, black mass of water. It makes Sam uneasy, reminding him of the Leviathans. The Ocean itself was massive, the pathway towards it blocked by the sheer cliffs by the mountains surrounding the planes. The water shifts and moves. A vaguely reptilian head rises out of the liquid, the neck long, it’s dark green scales unusually vibrant Sam’s eyes widens.

“Is that a-”

“Dragon, yes.” Lucifer rasps from behind him, and Sam jumps, turning back to look at him. Guilt churns at the tall man’s stomach at the sight. Lucifer’s eyes were rimmed with red and purple bruises, he appears to be thinner than before, taking on an almost skeletal appearance, the blue eyes that were like shards of ice are like lifeless marbles. Sam turns back, not willing to look at him, to just give in to this urge.

Lucifer faces Sam’s back, the motion sending another knife to his grace, already in tatters. He may be fading, but he still has ears. He heard Sam’s earlier conversation with Michael, loud and clear, each word a blow to him. Somehow, it managed to strengthen his resolve to live. If Sam does not want him, then Lucifer will not beg and grovel at his feet. Sam may be his true vessel, his other half- but Lucifer has been alone for thousands of years already.

He is no lovesick cherub, and he can handle being alone again. But he does not want to. There will be a way to let Sam see his point. There has to be. They are made for each other, after all.

The creature rises from the Ocean, the black liquid shifting to accommodate it’s body. Even then, it seems small compared to the deep tides. Sam feels his breath catch in his throat. Dragons. Goddamn dragons exist.

“We’ll need to get over this Ocean somehow.” Benny murmurs, shifting the backpack on his back.

 

“We fly over it.” Michael says, eyes hard and cold, as far away from Sam as possible. He manifests his wings, fanning them out, large and red like blood, bright in contrast to their surroundings. Lucifer manifests his wings as well. Sam looks away, only to glance back at them.

The feathers are translucent, the bones brittle looking, still injured with cracks in between joints. Even the color is dimmer, like someone took the light out of them. Sam tries to not lean into Lucifer’s touch when they flew over the Ocean, wind in his hair, almost tasting the salt against his tongue.

Lucifer leans against Sam. Proximity like this, being so close to his other half. He wants Sam, whether for him to be his vessel or something more. It’s such a human feeling, but so much more. Sam is just human, an extraordinary one, much better than the rest of them, but it is to be expected. No human can understand how an Angel feels. He sends a tendril of grace out, letting it connect with Sam’s soul. Perhaps that could let him understand. Sam’s eyes widens when he felt something connect with him. Something cold brushing against him. Lucifer. A whirling storm of emotion came from the fallen Archangel.

Lucifer is trying to tell him _something_ , and Sam has to listen, considering that if he left he would be falling thousands of feet into the ocean below, where the dragons flitted about the surface with grace and fluidity. He pokes back, and Sam has to fight to just breath.

There is so much _anger_ at humanity- anger that the alien species took his father away from him- a father that programmed them, the Angels to obey. Loneliness from the absolute isolation that is the cage. Empty with nothing but the color of black and his own thoughts to accompany him. Betrayed by Michael’s mindless obedience.

And love and longing. So much of it, all directed at _Sam_ and he drowns in it, because as human there is just too much and it is too hard to understand but so easy to get lost in- as he looks right now, he knows that Lucifer is not human, he is something older than the universe- he watched galaxies, stars and civilizations live and prosper and fall and die.

But in the emptiness of the cage all he looked forward to is Sam’s existence. And Sam understands, because how could he not? Ever since he was a child there is a hole in his heart that not even his dreams of a normal life. Then the night at the convent happened, and, as he gazed into the light rising out of Lilith’s blood, Sam realized that he has never felt so _complete_ before.

He really has been waiting for this for a _long, long time_. He feels the tatters of Lucifer’s grace and promised to himself to fix it.

 

 _Thank you_. Lucifer speaks through the connection, a burst of glee and a hint of knowing smugness, before pulling back just as Sam is about to answer.

When they land, Sam grabs Lucifer’s arm and kisses him against a tree, the head of his mouth against Lucifer’s cool breath. The Devil is a damn good kisser, Sam realizes- as relief flooded him, from himself and from Lucifer.

“Don’t destroy humanity?” He asks when they pull away, ignoring Michael’s pointed look and Benny’s sarcastic clapping.

“I can promise to try.” Lucifer answers, and drags Sam down for another kiss. If this completeness is what he gets for forgoing his revenge, then he might just try. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing fic is making me feel pretty insecure- is the characterizations on point?


	22. National Anthem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lana Del Ray songs inspires me to write lots and lots

Adam sits, right by the endless expanse of golden clouds. Nick is off gardening again, losing himself to the menial labor that is not really needed in a place like this. Chuck is either drinking, writing, or talking to God. Adam cannot fathom what that is like, being able to converse freely with a being like God, of all people.

He misses Michael. Despite being an Archangel, an unfathomably powerful being, Michael is surprisingly good company. A little naive, maybe. But Adam looks past all that. Michael is fierce, powerful and protective, and there is something about him that makes Adam want to sink into his embrace, the warmth he emits- He groans, shifting a hand in his hair. He is so fucked. He is in love, in freaking love with the Archangel Michael. The Archangel Michael. _Holy fuck_ indeed.

“I’m sure he loves you too.” A smarmy voice pipes up from behind him. Adam jumps, spinning around to see a short, older man grinning at him. What stands out to Adam, are the six _huge_ wings jutting out from his back, gold and shining like the clouds around them.

“You’re an-”

“Archangel. Yep.” He grins holding his hand out. “Gabriel.”

“Oh.” Adam sat, dumbfounded. It’s not like he hasn’t meet Angels, or even Archangels before. Hell, his boyfriend(boyfriend?) is an Archangel himself. He takes Gabriel’s hand, pulling himself up.

“Why are you here?” Adam asks.

“Cause I’m dead, kiddo. Got shivved by my brother. No hard feelings, though.” He looks down, as if seeing something Adam cannot.

“What are you looking at?” Adam asks Gabriel. The freaking Archangel Gabriel. Adam seems to be going through various bouts of existential crises lately. Such is his life.

“Oh, you’ll be needed down there soon.” Gabriel says lightly, patting Adam on his back with a wing. “Candy?”

“Uh-” Adam takes the piece of Candy and sucks on it, the flavor surprising but not unwelcome. It’s been so long since he last ate, being trapped with Michael and Lucifer and Sam in the Cage. They managed to get out, didn’t they?

“Take care of my big bro, okay?” Gabriel grins at Adam, “He needs someone like you, my man.”

* * *

 

 

Balthazar comes back to the motel room, finding Dean Winchester on the bed with his face in his hands and a bottle of cheap vodka on the bedside table. He looked into the bathroom. Castiel leans against the wall, face blank, turning to look at Balthazar. Once he affirmed that Balthazar is of no harm, he turns away again.

“What. The. Hell. Happened?” He closes the door, striding towards Dean Winchester.

“ _Nothing_!” Dean glares at him, reaching out to the table for the drink. Balthazar grabs it away.

“No way. Until you tell me what the _hell_ happened, cause I’m sure I left you and Cassie here to talk it out, not-” He gestured “ _This_.”

“I think I love him.” Dean says mournfully into his hands, wishing that he is more drunk for this conversation than he is now.

“Then go-” Balthazar throws his hands up in the air “And tell him, for dad’s sake!”

“I did!” Dean shouts. “I tried! It was a mistake!”

“What is a mistake? _Really_?”

“ _No_!” Dean grabs Balthazar. “It was not a mistake! But that’s what Cas said! _He_ said it was a mistake!” Balthazar freezes.

“You told him kissing him was a mistake?”

“What the hell else was I supposed to say?! Cas agreed!”

“Damn it!” Balthazar loses his cool. He grabs Dean by his collar, dragging him to the bathroom despite his protests.

“Cas.” He drags Castiel up from his corner. “Dean.” He forces Dean to sit. “You two, are going to talk this out. Properly, this time- and I will keep the buggered door locked.” He glares at them. “Don’t go out until you talk your respective shit out, because I,” Balthazar points to himself, his accent becoming thicker, “I am so _done_.”

 

He slams the door and clicks the lock.

“Cas.” Dean whispers. “ _Cas_.”

“Dean.” Castiel looks back. He heard them, Dean and Balthazar speaking from the room- he did not want to, but he did and the only thought in his mind is the fact that Dean loves him. The word is loud and _final_ and holds too many implications for Castiel to consider. It stays in his mind, _hope_ setting it’s roots in him, refusing to leave. Dean loves, and it is something he never considered before.

“Did you mean it? When you said you love me?” Castiel asks. His voice sounds cracked, like shards of glass scraped themselves across his throat. Dean’s confession will either burn him or be the water that restores his grace. Dean nods, and, in a fit of courage spurred on by alcohol Castiel’s eyes, so damn blue, leans in and kisses Cas. It is all tongue, parched lips on parched lips.

Castiel pulls Dean back towards him, so damn selfish, refusing to let him go and letting them fall back together in the bathtub. The reach out to each other, seeking each other like travelers in the desert seeking water. They are lost men, but now, at least, they can be lost in each other. And they are, lost in each other, drowning, holding on as much as they can.

“Cas?” Dean breathes when they finally break apart.“Did you mean it?” He asks. “That it was a mistake?” He has to know. He needs to know.

Castiel shakes his head, blue eyes burning so bright. “Loving you..” He whispers, voice so low that Dean is not sure whether he heard him right. But it still hit him- Cas loves him- God- “Loving you is _never_ a mistake, Dean.” Dean grins, not sure what he should say. God, Cas loves him, this Angel, who died for him over and over again- he loves him.

“Same here.” He kisses Cas again.

“I don’t deserve you-” Cas says when they part again. “I’m not-”

“If you say that you’re not good enough, or anything like that-” Dean tells Cas, atmosphere suddenly serious. “Then I would ask you to kindly shut up.” He snarls. “Cause if someone is not good enough, that would be-” He points to himself with his thumb. “Yours truly here.”

“Dean-” Castiel breathes. “ _Dean_ -” His name, sounding like a _prayer_ from the lips of an Angel. _His_ Angel.

“Can we talk _later_ , Cas?” Dean murmurs, pulling Cas closer to him. This is too good, too good for someone like Dean Winchester- but  for once he will take what he can get and give what he can give and hope that it all works out.

“You are _worth_ it, Dean.” Castiel says with all his conviction, and Dean believes it.

“You are _more_ than worth it, Cas.” Dean tells him, and Castiel believes it, too.

The lock clicks open, but they are already too lost in each other to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is love <3!


	23. dream brother

They were still stuck in Purgatory, but things are easier, some how. To Sam, at least. He still want to get out, still misses Dean- but being like this, traveling around the vast landscape of Purgatory, by air and by land- makes him feel _free_.

“You think too loudly.” Lucifer wraps his arm around his waist.

“So do you.” Sam bites back, grinning. It should not be this easy, falling into playful banter with Lucifer, letting the Archangel carry him as they fly above the trees, but it is, and, for once, Sam does not feel guilty about feeling good.

“Guilty as charged.” Lucifer laughs, lighter than air, his feathers shifting against each other, fanned out in the air, bright and glowing.

“Hey lovebirds!” Benny hollers “Get down here and walk with us mortals!”

Lucifer swoops down, keeping his hold on Sam. Sam lets him, focusing instead on Lucifer’s cool breath against his airs. His heart leaps against his rib cage as he realized that he is in love. God, Sam is so _fucked_. He is in freaking _love_ with Lucifer.

“I love you too.” Lucifer whispers in his ear and Sam groans.

“You heard that?”

“You were projecting. Loudly.”

They land together. Sam is happy. Lucifer is happy. They are, against _all odds_ , in love with each other. Two halves made whole. They should have known that it could not last. Not for people like them.

 

 

Michael knows that something dark has wormed its way into him. Leaven. He orders the creature hiding in the cracks of his worn out grace. Now. _Oh Michael_. The creature sighs. _You may be old, but I am older than time_.

 _Leviathan_. Michael hisses, falling back. Lucifer glances at him with concern, and Michael shakes his head, gesturing for his brother to stay with his lover. He is glad, that Lucifer is finally happy. He can see his brother’s grace healing itself, mixing with Sam Winchester’s soul, like how two Angels would mix their graces together. Unconventional, Michael thought. But Lucifer is all about unconventional. And with Adam, Michael supposes that he is, too.

Lucifer is happy, and that is what matters. He deserves _some_ happiness, at least. Michael couldn’t give him what they had, but now that he has this Michael can rest easier, even with the constant ache in his chest.

 _Your little boy-toy is lucky that he’s dead already_. The Leviathans coos, and Michael tenses. _Oh they things I will do to him- such a pretty face_.

 ** _Shut up!_** Michael seethes, thinking about this creature getting it’s claws on Adam.

 _You get angry too easily, Mikey_. It mocks him. _Such a hothead_. Michael ignores it’s mocking words, it’s subtle attempts to undermine his control, sneaking in the cracks and crevices. Wanting to hitch a ride out with him, no doubt. _You know me too well_. The creature falls silent, and Michael breathes in relief.

He concentrates his grace, attempting to force this creature out of his body. A sharp stab of pain shoots through his body. He bites his lips until he bleeds.

“You okay, brother?” The vampire asks. Michael nods, placing a hand on the larger man’s shoulder and heaves himself up.

“I am _fine_.” Michael answers, falling even further behind, to the back of the group. Lucifer smiles at his vessel, almost worshipful, and a small stab of jealousy sends him reeling, the poisonous voices of the Leviathans hissing their laughter in his mind. Lucifer is happy, for once. Like they used to be, before they ruined each other. He has his mate, but Michael’s mate is gone and Michael is bitter and the Leviathans bleed black, burrowing into his grace. It’s not just the one. Hundreds, thousands of these vile monsters from the time before creation. They only know to devour.

They group reaches the exit, a thrum of blue light by the side of a small hill. They glance at each other, almost unable to believe their eyes. After what seemed like years in the cage, and decades traveling in Purgatory, they _finally_ have an out. Sam takes Lucifer’s hand in his, squeezing it softly.

“Come with me when we get out?” Lucifer squeezes back, a genuine smile on his face.

“Of course I will, Sam. You are my other half.”

“Ahem.” Benny interrupts, grinning. “Not to get sentimental, but- It’s been good knowing you guys. Michael, too. So..”

“Oh, yeah-” Sam scratches his head sheepishly, holding out his other hand.

 

“I will not go.” Michael speaks up- he cannot go. If these Leviathans are released

“You are going.” Lucifer drags him away. “ _What_ do you mean you will not go?”

“I cannot go, brother. Please.” Michael hopes that Lucifer can feel the darkness filling his grace. These creatures widens the cracks, drilling new fissures inside his grace and he will not let them out.

“If you are being this pig-headed, brother-” Lucifer drawls. “Then I will _drag_ you out myself.”

“Lucifer! _Leave_ _me here_!”

“Hey, what’s going on-” Sam gets in between them.

“Is that an _order_?!” Lucifer moves, snarling at Michael.

“What are you playing at-”

“I am not playing at _anything,_ Lucifer.” Michael growls.

“Then you are getting out.” Michael attempts to protest again, when a sudden pain knocks into him and he is trapped inside his own mind, the Leviathans swarming him so that he cannot call out, cannot warn Lucifer and Sam Winchester and Benny about the creatures in him, because they are in _control_ of Adam’s body now.

 _Father_ \- Michael prays. _If you will not save me, then save Adam. Bring him back. He deserves happiness, after everything that he went through. **Please**_.

 

 

 They let Benny go at the graveyard, watching him run off into the night. "Good luck, brother." He winks at them, tipping his hat. Sam wishes that he did not, just so that he can have one more person helping him in this.

Sam’s arm aches. He points the machete at Michael- no- _not_ Michael. It grins at them, eyes sparkling with madness, telling them that ‘ _Michael is not home right now_.’

“Let him _go_.” Sam snarls. Whatever it is wearing Michael must be from Purgatory- but Sam cannot waste anytime trying to discern it’s origins- It holds Lucifer in it’s grip, Archangel blade pressed up to his throat, blood and grace spilling out of the wound.

“Let my brother go, _creature_ -” Lucifer hisses as the blade presses in deeper. “Sam! Leave!”

“Oh, this is getting quite _boring_.” It says. “Isn’t that right, Sammy? Listen to your _boyfriend_ and run-”

“ _Fuck you_.” Sam holds his place. “What the hell do you want?”

“Just to have a little _fun_ , Sammy.” It laughs. “But we got _work_ to do. Boss ain’t happy about us playin. Gotta get to _work_.”

 

“ _Lucifer!_ ” Sam begins to run when it raises the blade. It _sinks_ into Lucifer’s stomach, piercing through his body and his grace, and light, so much _light_ spills out and Sam screams. The creature raises it’s head, and black smoke pours out- it’s not a demon, it’s something far worse, far darker. Michael falls to the ground.

 

“Lucifer!” He yells, pulling his brother to his chest. Sam runs over.

“Michael! Do _something_!” Tears streaked down Sam’s face- _why- why_ does it have to end like _this_ \- they _just got out_ -

 

“Damn you Lucifer- you _promised_ -”

“Sam- Sam-” Lucifer leans into Michael, pulling Sam closer to him, clutching at his hand like a drowning man clutching at straws. Grace pours out of him, through his mouth, through the gashes on his throat and the stab wound in his stomach.

Michael gives as much of his grace to Lucifer as he could, the horror of himself hurting his brother, both from now and the past clouding his mind, “Hold on- Lucifer- please- I’ll get a healer- I’ll get a _team_ of healers, I'll get all of them-”

“Don’t let go,Lucifer, _please_. We just got out- we just got out- _it's not supposed to end like this_ -” Sam begs as it begins to rain. The rain mixes with his tears and Lucifer’s spilled grace as Michael leaves, Adam’s empty shell slumped on the wet, muddy ground.

"Michael? Sam?" Adam pushes himself up, last thing he remembers being Gabriel pressing his fingers to his forehead.

"Michael!"

"Oh my god, what happened?" Adam presses his hand down on Lucifer's stomach, the Archangel so out of it he did not even answer.

"Adam? How-"

"Don't ask, Sam- what happened- how-"

"Something controlled Michael-"

"Oh God-"

"Adam, please, help-" 

 

Sam cradles Lucifer's body. "Lucifer! Please!"

"Sam-" Lucifer answers. He holds on, as much as he can, but his grace is leaving, his body emptying out. For the first time in thousands of years, he begins to pray. _Father, please. Don't make me leave Sam. Not now- not like this._

"Hold on-" Sam cups Lucifer's face.

Lucifer answers by closing his eyes.

 

"No! Please!" Sam shakes Lucifer, the ashes from his burnt out wings marring the ground and Sam's arms, already washing away in the rain. 

"Fuck you!" He shouts to the skies. To _God._ "You could have saved him! _Why_!"

"Sam!" Adam grabs him. "Is he-"

"God-" Sam looks up at his younger brother. "He's gone. He's _dead. Why_."

"I don't know. I don't know."

Sam did not let go of Lucifer for the next three days.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all, my lovely readers :)


	24. Life imitates art

“Lucifer’s cage is gone?” Castiel asks in alarm. Dean nods.

“Yep. Gone like the friggin’ _wind_.” Dean slings an arm around Cas, leaning against the impala, hex bags made so they won’t be followed.

“And Balthazar-”

“Also gone, along with his-”

“Demon.” Castiel still finds it unnerving, that his brother would choose to mate with a Demon.

“Don’t think too much of it, Cas.” God, Dean is one lucky man. He couldn’t quite believe, for the first few days, that Cas is his. And thank Cas’s dad for it, too.

“Of course.” Castiel nods. “We should look for Sam. Balthazar cannot return to Heaven, but I can still go and check.”

“You sure?” Dean asks. It’s not that he does not trust Cas. Hell, he’ll jump right back onto the racks of Hell again if that means Cas is safe and happy.

“Yes, Dean. I am sure.” Castiel leans up, kissing Dean full on the lips, falling into his embrace. Castiel marvels at his luck, really. God has gifted him with Dean in his life, and Castiel will not lose him, and Castiel may not be worthy but he will _make_ himself worthy. And he will go back to Heaven, and seek out Sam Winchester- because they were friends. Because he is Dean’s brother and Castiel will do _everything_ to make sure Dean is happy.

“Cas- just- make sure you’re okay, kay? Get your ass down here at the first sign of trouble. I- can’t lose you too.” Dean tells him, gripping Castiel’s shoulders so tight that it would have hurt had he been a human.

“Of course.” Castiel nods, looking up to the sky before flying back to his home.

 

He never made it to Heaven. When it hit him, Michael could _not breath_ \- he was at the gates of Heaven, just outside before any lesser Angels could notice him when the shockwaves of Lucifer’s death hits him. The sheer emptiness inside his chest explodes. Michael is alone. Utterly and completely alone. He is the _last_ Archangel in existence. Lucifer is dead. Raphael has left. Gabriel is dead. Even his mate is dead. He dives from Heaven in his grief, not wishing to be pulled back, to see his younger sibling’s surely ecstatic graces. Not when he is so alone. He very nearly slams into Castiel.

“ _Michael_?” Castiel reels back- If Michael is here, then that means Lucifer is out- is Lucifer still in Sam? Has the Apocalypse begun again? Did everything that happened, every _sacrifice_ that Dean and Sam and Castiel made mean nothing now-

“Castiel- _brother_ -” Michael grabs onto the younger Angel. “Please-” He shows Castiel what happened. The Cage. Lucifer uniting with Sam and tearing the Cage apart. Sam casting Lucifer out. Him falling in love with Adam. Him burning Adam out. Purgatory. Lucifer and Sam becoming mates. The creatures taking control of his body. Lucifer dying. He shows Castiel everything-

Michael just needs someone, anyone to share this with- or else he will tear himself apart in seconds, and he cannot have that- because something in him still holds out for the hope that his father is still there, still listening.

“Oh.” Castiel breathes, wide eyed as Michael flies off. He follows his bright, burning elder brother, his thoughts reeling. Sam and Lucifer are _mates_ \- Michael and Lucifer no longer at war- Michael’s _doubts_. It was overwhelming but at the same time Castiel remained detached. These were Michael’s memories- Michael may be sharing them with Castiel to make him understand but all that loss belongs to _Michael_ and no one else.

 

 

“I came back, Sam.” Adam shakes Sam’s shoulders, the older man pale and shaking from not eating, not sleeping. Lucifer remains lifeless in his arms. “He can come back, too.” He begs his half-brother. They may not have spent much time together, but they were in the Cage with each other. That kind of thing sticks.

“They wouldn’t let him.” Sam whispers, eyes wide and sunken.

“Sam-” “Shut up!” Sam yells and Adam flinches. “You don’t understand- you can’t understand-”

“You’re right.” Adam nods, keeping his distance, but keeping close. “I can’t understand. But I’ll be here, if you need anything-”

Michael bursts into the room, taking a young man with tanned skin and dark hair as a vessel.

“Adam?” He stares, mouth dry. Adam is burnt out- he felt it and yet he is here now and Michael just stares.

“Michael-” Castiel bursts into the room. Sam with Lucifer, huddled in the corner of the small cabin, still hidden from his sight with the sigils on his ribs. Michael and Adam Milligan, staring at each other like they were miracles.

“Adam- how are you still-” Michael swallows, gripping Adam’s shoulders. Too afraid to let go.

“I was in Heaven-”

“But how- I burned your _soul_ -”

“I don’t know- but I’m back now-”

“Get out.” Sam glares at them all, voice calm and frosty. “Get out!” “

Sam- _Dean_ is looking for you-” Castiel speaks up.

“What does Dean know?” Sam asks, leaving Lucifer and walking to Castiel, gripping him by the collar of his coat. “What the _Hell_ does Dean know?” Castiel contemplated about leaving Sam here with Michael and Adam. But he knows that he will not be able to find him again. He was friends with Sam, once. He needs to bring him back to Dean.

“My apologies, Sam.” He tells the younger Winchester, grabbing onto his room and dragging him to Dean.

 

Sam and Dean deteriorated into a screaming match not long after.

 

“What the Hell do you mean? You fucking hooked up with _Lucifer?_!” Dean shouts from across the motel room Castiel transported them to.

“I didn’t just ‘ _hook up_ ’ with him, Dean! Besides-” Sam seethes. “You ‘hooked up’ with Cas-”

“That’s different!” Dean makes a swing at Sam. “Don’t you talk about Cas like that!”

“Dean! Sam!” Castiel flings the two of them onto the wall of the room, pinning them down with his powers. They seem to forget that he is still an Angel of the Lord, and infinitely powerful.

“Dean- Sam and Lucifer- they are mates. Even if you do not approve.” He looks to Sam. “And Dean and I are mates- the pain of losing a mate is painful, but-” He sucks in a breathe. “You are brothers. You just found each other again. Do not lose each other.”

He flies away, leaving them to sort out their problems. Yes, Castiel is Dean’s mate, and Sam’s friend. But he cannot interfere in their affairs. It is not right, and they would not want him to do so. He flies away, checking on Michael and Adam Milligan. The Archangel and the human are still embracing each other.

Castiel leaves, waiting outside by the impala. He can get used to this life, spent with Dean.

Sam and Dean glares at each other, breathing hard. Then, without warning, they stride towards each other, grinning and hugging.

“It’s good to see you, man.” Dean says.

“Yeah.” Sam nods. It is _good_ , to see Dean again.

“So you and Lucifer-”

“He’s _gone_.” Sam whispers, and Dean could understand. Maybe he cannot accept it yet, but he did understand.

“Hey, Sammy- we _always_ come back, don’t we?”

“Yeah.” Sam nods. He lost his lover, but his brother is back. And what Dean said is true. They always end up coming back. There is _always_ a way. He just have to hold out, and hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated!


	25. Good God, I will give you my life

“Father?” Lucifer asks as he glances around the Heaven. But this is not Heaven. This is _Eden_. _The_ Garden.

“He’s, uh, not here?” A small, mousey man grins at him. Lucifer glares and he flinches away, clutching at his bottle. “H-hey- Lucifer, right?”

“You are my father’s _vessel._ ” Lucifer comments flatly. Looks like even in death his father will find further ways to punish him. He would rather just disappear, or go back to Sam.

“Well, yeah. It’s, uh, Chuck, actually.” Chuck runs his fingers through his hair nervously. “Nick’s back in Heaven with his wife and kids- you know who Nick is, right?”

“He is my vessel. I tend to _remember_ my vessels.” Lucifer moves away from the man.

“Of course, of course-” The vessel- Chuck- takes a swig. “Yeah- at least he’s happy now-”

 

“Hey Chuck. Hey Luce.” Lucifer spins around, faced with _Gabriel_ ’s grinning face. Chuck scuttles off, leaving the two brothers facing each other.

“Gabriel.” Lucifer nods. Of course Gabriel will be here.

“Hiya, Luce.” Gabriel pats his back. “All is forgiven, of course. Thank my merciful nature?” He winks.

“I don’t need forgiveness. Not from you, or anyone else.” Lucifer says stiffly.

“Sure you don’t. I’ve got time. I had time. Loads of time.” Gabriel drags Lucifer off.

“You should not have joined in the Apocalypse. You should have stayed _out_ of it.” Lucifer growls. What is Gabriel playing at?!

“Ah-ah, Luce- Patience. Have faith in the _messenger_ , eh?” Lucifer did not speak. “So, I hear you and Samsquatch got it on-”

“What is it that you _want_ , Gabriel?” Lucifer growls, growing impatient. The skies of Eden is lined with golden clouds, much like it had been last time he was here. But now, Lucifer just want to get back. Back to his mate.

“I got a message for ya.” Gabriel pats his arm again.

“A message.” “From big daddy _himself_. Chucky was pretty shaken when he came. But he is _always_ shaken.” Gabriel snickers, conjuring up a candy bar. “So I-” He takes a bite, talking while he chews, ignoring Lucifer’s disgruntled look. “I have to play messenger, again.”

“You were always the messenger, Gabriel.” Lucifer sits down.

“Eh. Dad says that you have to get your feathers plucked if you wanna see your _boyfriend_.” Gabriel finishes the candy bar, snaps the wrapper away and snaps up a lollipop, handing it over to Lucifer.

“And what exactly does that mean?” Gabriel sighs.

“It means, brother, you have to go native. Choose to be human, and you get to see loverboy again. My words, not daddy’s. But the meaning’s basically the same.”

“Father- he wants me to be _human_?” Lucifer felt a rush of panic. Giving up his wings, giving up his grace- it’s unthinkable, for someone who valued his angelic abilities above all else. And now he is offered an ultimatum. To become human and be with Sam, or to stay an Angel and remain, for all eternity, in this _forsaken_ garden. An age ago, Lucifer would not even _think_ of giving up his grace. But now, he thought. He is torn. Between his pride in being one of the most powerful beings in this universe and the vast, eternal love he has for Sam.

Being an Angel is not just about having wings and grace. It involves knowing everything from beginning to end. An Angel’s love and knowledge is vast and great and cannot be put into human words. And Lucifer- will he give up all this, to be with Sam? An eternity ago, he would have said no. Now, Lucifer, for the first time in his incredibly long life- and- Even Lucifer does not know if he could give up his grace willingly, with his own full consent. He just does not. Sam is human. Humans do not love as Angels do. It will _hurt_. He realizes from Sam’s memories. It will hurt but they can _move on_.  And it disturbs him, knowing that Sam's love for him is not as eternal as Lucifer's love for Sam.

“If you wanna, you can go and talk to Moosey before you choose.” Gabriel pats Lucifer’s shoulder, sending him spiraling into Sam’s dreams.

Sam opens his eyes, to find himself standing in the motel room when he first met Lucifer. This is a dream, then, Sam thought. God, he is pathetic. Lucifer is like a giant, _gaping_ wound in his chest. It festers in the dark and Sam does all he could to not poke at it. Hell, even Dean avoids the topic.

“Lucifer would not want you to be unhappy.” Castiel says gruffly, and the words sound alien in his mouth. Michael shakes his head and avoids Sam. Adam bites his lips and looks away from Sam. He can hear them, whispering about the creatures that took over Michael. The Leviathans. They are out on Earth, and no one knew what their game plan was. Even Bobby called, pensive about hunters encountering those things.

No one talked to Sam about them. It hits too _close_ , and every single person around him is walking on eggshells. He is dreaming of the first time they met. Even then, Sam knew it was Lucifer, that strange connection frightening him to no end. Now he would do anything to get it back.

“Losing a mate.” Michael says, guilt in his eyes and Sam could not blame him, because Michael was hit just as hard. “Losing a mate can be hard, even if you are human.”

“Why.” Sam asks Michael. “We just got out- _why_?” Michael shakes his head, looking at Sam with pity and Sam regrets asking him anything at all. Sam glances around the room, small details that escaped him the first time round.

If he could go back- then- Sam would have no idea what to do. So much has changed, so damn much. A flutter of wings. Sam turns around.

“Lucifer?”

"Sam."

"This isn't just a dream, is it?" Sam asks, reaching out. Lucifer is solid under his fingers, skin just as cool as it was in Purgatory. 

"No. I- I was given a _choice_." Lucifer looks at Sam. The only human he understands. The only human that could understand him.

"A choice." Sam says numbly. Of course. There has to be a catch.

"My father-" Lucifer ignores Sam's shocked look. "My father gave me a choice. To be human and be with you or be an Angel for all eternity, but not be able to see you again."

Sam bites his bottom lip, not knowing what to say. Ask Lucifer to give up his wings(his bright, larger than life, damn _beautiful_ wings) for him? That is too much to ask for and Sam cannot ask that of anyone. Lucifer joining them, the humans- 

"I choose you." Lucifer looks at Sam and decides, at once. Perhaps on an impulse. But he chooses because Lucifer has waited thousands of years for Sam. And he cannot fathom being separated from him any longer. "I choose _you_."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	26. Run in Circles

“Leviathans.” Balthazar rubs his chin, staring at the group in Bobby’s house. Sam and Dean. Castiel and Michael and Adam. Even Crowley and Belial, deliberately goading each other into fights. Cabin fever. All these people and Angels and Demons piled together, desperately scraping for any bit of information they can find on those Leviathans.

 

Michael takes Adam, bringing them away from the high tension.

“I feel bad, you know.” Adam takes Michael’s hand, taking in the waterfall in this secluded corner of the world. Michael frowns and Adam sighs. “I mean- Sam just lost- pretty much _everything_ and here I am being all happy and all, but I can’t help it and-”

“It’s not your fault.” Michael picks at his vessel’s shirt. The man himself looks vaguely like a younger John Winchester, and is in some ways vaguely related to their bloodline. Michael made sure his rather troubled soul went to Heaven. “You cannot help what you feel.” Adam made a frustrated noise.

“I wish I could.” He sighs. “I mean, I’m happy you’re here and all, Mike, I love you but it’s just _unfair_ to Sam and-” The rest of his words were cut off by Michael’s hand on his arm, like a steel vice, tight and painful, heat radiating off his fingers- subtle reminders that Michael is not human.

“You love me?” Michael asks, looking suddenly all too human and voice rough.

“Yeah?” Adam frowns. It’s no big deal, really. For him, it was all too easy. He loved his mom, so he said it. He loved his dad, as little as he had seen of him and he said it, and John almost jumped at that and looked at Adam funny the entire day. He loves Michael, and he said that, too.

“Oh.” Michael looks away. “Hey. It’s no big deal.” Adam reaches out for the Archangel. “It is. A big deal. For _me_.” Michael admits, holding onto Adam’s hand.

Humans, they love _so much,_ so easily. And Adam does love him, he knows it. They were in each other’s head, after all. But they fall _out_ of love just as easily. Angels cannot understand that, not ever. Anything Adam wanted to say was cut off by a scream Michael hears from the Salvage Yard and the sensation of being pulled a world away.

 

“I choose you,” Lucifer says and he shakes Sam, “I choose you-” His grace begins to tear and Sam can see it too,

“You can’t do this-” Sam protests, like he does when either him or Dean has to sacrifice themselves to save the world or one another- except no one has to die and he cannot understand why Lucifer would do this-

“Too _late_.” Lucifer whispers, as what must be his father’s might rips away his wings feather by feather, he cup’s Sam’s face, hoping that the human knows how significant this gesture is, him giving up his wings. The pain tears through his back and he wonders what would it be like to be human, to be one of the creatures he hated that badly. But Sam is one of them- they cannot be _that_ bad, if _Sam_ is one of them- He screams, tearing away from Sam’s dreamscape.

Sam wakes with a jolt, shirt soaked through with cold sweat, feverishly hoping that it was just a dream. Then Lucifer drops onto the floor, human for all intents, Adam and Michael appear out from thin air and Dean and Castiel and Bobby bursts through the door, both hunters holding shotguns and Cas holding his sword out.

“What the hell!” Dean swears at Lucifer’s unconscious body, shotgun pointed at him.

“He’s _human-_ ” Sam babbles, and Cas’s eyes widens “He said if he gave up his grace or something God would let him-”

Michael slams Sam against the wall and Dean points his shotgun to Michael instead, yelling at him to put Sam down- Adam attempts to wrestle the shotgun away from Dean and Bobby and Castiel steps away, unsure of what to do-

“You made him do this-” Michael yells.

“I never made him do anything! He _choose_ this!”

“Lucifer would _never_ -” “All of you!” Bobby barks, as Crowley finally steps up, yawning.

“Get out. Calm down. Now!” He orders, as the Angels and humans except for Sam filed out of the room.

“I love it when you get all bossy.” Crowley grins and Michael glares at him, desperately wanting to smite the demon.

 

 

Sam sinks back down onto the bed as soon as everyone got out, leaning down to look at Lucifer.

“Lucifer?” He whispers, tapping the man- not Angel, not anymore and it’s all because of Sam and that thought scares him so damn much- what is it about Sam that prompted Lucifer to fall- Lucifer’s body is warm now, just like any human body is. Sam drags him up onto the bed, covering him. God. Sam could not wrap his thoughts around this. Why the Hell would Lucifer even do anything like this? They were together, yes, and Sam felt the connection, as much as any _human_ could- but this is something only Angels can understand.

“You-” Sam has no words, nothing to say because this is all too much. He sighs, rubbing his eyes, suddenly too tired. He lays down, pulling the blanket over him and Lucifer’s unconscious body. Whatever tomorrow is, he can wait. He can't do anything but wait.


	27. Finale

“Father.” Lucifer walks towards the vessel- not Chuck, not anymore, just another vessel now. He did not answer, he did not even turn to face the Morning Star and Lucifer can feel the cold anger he knows so well stir from his grace- Why does he still have his grace-

“Samael.” He turns, smiling and Lucifer winces.

“It’s _Lucifer_ now.” He stands his ground and his father just smiles, like he knows every damn thing about Lucifer and he probably does.

“Of course.”

“ _Why_. Why not let me be down there- I agreed to be one of the humans-”

“You never learned.”

“What does _that_ mean-” Lucifer glares. He loves his father, he truly does, with all his heart and that was why he fell but he can be so cryptic in all his messages, and the Angels could mull over them and think and think but never understand-

“But you tried.”

“What. Do. You. Mean! Can you just-” Lucifer shuts up.

“You love Sam Winchester, yes?”

“Of course.”

“You were willing to give up your grace for him?”

“...Yes.” Lucifer grits his teeth. Just what is he getting at. “Just send me down there already- unless this is some sort of test.” His father’s grin widens.

“This is a test, is it not?” Lucifer asks, almost in wonder. Only his father could do something like this and make it into a test, as if that made everything all right. Like everything was a test to him, a game that he plays-

“If you want it to be.” Lucifer wonders how his father sounds so damn mild all the time. Out of this world. If was a facade, of course. He knows enough righteous fury to know that if God wants to get wrathful, he definitely can.

“...Did I pass?” He asks after a small pause. He choose Sam, yes- but he did not choose the humans, not like his father would have wanted him too. He choose Sam. One human that was like a burning star compared to the rest of the humans. He waited thousands of years to meet the human, for him to be born. He was afraid, in the Cage, that Sam would not live up to the expectations and fantasies that Lucifer has constructed in the Cage- but Sam was exactly what he wanted, and much more.

“Depends on how you define passing. Tell me, what do you think of these humans.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to give the usual answers. Dirty. Abominations. Not worthy of the souls, the gifts his father has bestowed on them. But he did not say. Not out loud, at least. He thought further. They were violent, and creative. Contradictory in their very natures. Sam, and Dean, they managed to thwart his and Michael’s and Heaven’s plans with their sheer free will and little, unassuming Adam Milligan did help him and Michael reconciliate. Perhaps most of humanity is still those creatures that the Angels loved to despise. But there are enough that are different, and Lucifer must admit that after everything that happened since he came out of his Cage they did deserve his grudging respect. _Some_ , at least.

“I suppose.” He declares to his father’s grinning face. “That they are not as bad as I thought.”

“Good, good.” His father nods, turning and pressing two fingers to Lucifer’s forehead. And the sky swrves and Lucifer falls down. So this is a test, and it appears that he passed. He thought.

 

Sam wakes to the sound of wings filling the room. And then he sees him, Lucifer, his eyes burning bright blue like an Angel’s does, white-blue wings fanned out, covering the entire room.

“Lucifer?” Sam asks, blinking and rubbing his eyes. He opens his eyes, yep, wings still there. “How?” Lucifer folds his wings away.

“It was a test.” He says, slightly relieved and slightly irritated.

 

“It was a test.” Michael echoes as the group gathered, his wings spread out and brushing against Lucifer’s wings. Even Castiel’s wings are out, smaller than the Archangel’s. They are a dark, shimmering black and Dean whistled, stroking the feathers. The Demons back away into their own corner, grumbling about the feathers.

“You don’t like my wings?” Balthazar pouts, silver wings drooping onto the ground.

“No one likes wings.” Crowley calls, from one corner.

“Not true!” Belial laughs and Balthazar grins.

“Can we talk about the actual issue here?” Dean asks loudly. “Like how to get rid of the Leviathans?”

“I know how to!” Adam says, slightly quiet compared to the Angels and his brothers and the demons, but he catches the attention of the occupants of the room immediately.

“And what would that be, boy?” Bobby asks. “Cause I read everything I could on those things, and we only know that borax can harm ‘em.”

“Gabriel told me.” Adam blurts out. And it was partly the truth. Gabriel did take him aside, and tell him about Leviathans-

“Last night. I was, er, dreaming, and this voice talked to me. At least I think it’s Gabriel.”

“Gabriel is dead.” Michael frowns.

“Gabriel is in the Garden, Michael.” Lucifer tells him, “Where I was.”

“What exactly did he tell you?” Sam leans in, paying more attention than anyone else in the room.

“Something about bones and blood.” Adam cannot quite recollect that dream. All he remembers is a booming voice reverberating in his skull, loud and painful. He could barely make out most of the words.

“The fail safe!” Michael perks up. “He was talking about the fail safe!”

“What fail safe?” Castiel and Dean asks, the Angel fluttering his wings and tilting his head.

“I do not remember there ever being a fail safe-” Lucifer says, but by then Michael has grabbed Adam-

“I remember the failsafe-” Michael tells them. “I know how to kill the Leviathans-”

 


	28. Epilogue

Dean Winchester’s account of the second Apocalypse and how it ended.

They manage to get Dick Roman, that slimey politician and his lackey Leviathans, in the end. Well, it did involve getting a bone, and Lucifer and Crowley and an Alpha vampire letting some blood as they grumbled. The fallen Arch and the King of Hell grumbled and glared, but they did let, in the end.

Benny, Sam and Lucifer and Michael’s vampire friend did help in that. Capturing the Alpha vampire. Heck, the guy is a vampire, but Sammy always liked making friends with supernatural creatures, and Michael and Adam and the Devil himself vouched for the guy. Even Cas seemed to like him. Humph.

They got the bone(ha) and the blood, and they crashed a car into Roman’s office. Not the impala, nope. Never. Just some other car, cause Dean would never let his baby get hurt. No, never.

So, Lucifer and Cas totaled the car, crashing it into the building. And Dean has to admit, it was epic. Bobby and Crowley and Belial charged the building, with borax bombs and knives coated with borax. And since Michael can recognize the real Dick Roman(apparently he bit Lucifer’s arm, wow) he went with Dean, who has the bone knife thing.

Adam was on lookout with the annoying Angel, Balthazar, and they evaced the building and got all the civilians out, impressive. (Well, the Angels had to go and mindwipe most of the people, but still) So, Dean ends up stuck with Michael, and, together, through the power of friendship and stuff like that Dean and Mikey manages to grab the real Dick and shove a bone down his throat.

And Sammy actually hit him when he said that. It was funny, dammit! And they celebrated the end of Apocalypse 2.0 with pie and beer, as usual.

And they all got laid, with their respective Angels and Demons.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end :P


End file.
